Take Me Away
by Darkmoonphase
Summary: For 12 years, Arthur and Francis have had to deal with their sons' disappearances, hoping for some sort of closure. For 12 years, Alfred and Matthew have been living a comfortable life. Full summary inside, unfortunately... D:
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Take Me Away

**Author: **Darkmoonphase

**Rating: **T

**Genres: **Family; Adventure; Drama; Hurt/Comfort; Romance

**Summary: **For 12 years, Arthur and Francis have had to deal with their sons' disappearances, hoping for some sort of closure. For 12 years, Alfred and Matthew have been living a comfortable life. One day, in the middle of April, they up and leave, hoping to rediscover a life they hadn't realized they'd ever had.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or characters thereof.

**Author Notes: **_Well, my problem with my stories is that I'll get a fantastic idea and have it all planned out. But then I'll build off that plot and have a completely different story. Then I'll do it again to that one. And so on. I did that about three different times with one story – that I may eventually get around to writing out – and ended up with this. Hopefully it won't turn out too bad. This story is mainly focused on Alfred and Matthew but also on Arthur and Francis. It's supposed to center around their feelings and how they're expressing them. _

_On a side note on this, I did my research. The schools and cities/towns are indeed real. However, neither school seemed to have ballroom teams so I made those up. As far as I know, anyway. Because _Sidney Lanier High School_ didn't have ballroom listed anywhere and I couldn't navigate _Chetopa High School_'s_ _website very well. Just so you know that I'm not making _everything_ up. _

_I wanted to try a new little tactic that I picked up from reading a book…I'm not too great at it yet, I don't think. But I'm trying to describe the scenery and people a bit more to make you feel like you're standing in the room with them, a part of what they're dealing with. Since it's my first real attempt with digging deeper into the descriptions part of the story, I hope that you'll give me your honest opinion when you happen upon those parts. Does it sound like I'm going off on a tangent? Does it flow? Does it feel like you're watching it on TV or are one of the people in the room? It'd be greatly appreciated so that I can improve and expand on this and make your reading experience more enjoyable. Thanks so much._

_This is my third story for this fandom and the more serious one. Hopefully I don't take them too understandably out of character in my attempt to match the story to the characters. Let me know if there's a bit in there that might seem too OOC for you so I can work on it. (But just so you know, this first chapter will obviously seem OOC. At least, my friend, _**Feliciano Luigina Holmes**_ said so...)_

_Otherwise, thanks for taking the time for this story. Hope you like it. _

~XxX~

**Matthew**** (March 15, Wednesday)**

I'd never wondered before. I'd never had a reason to wonder. The Andersons were my parents and that was that. Then again, I hadn't realized I was adopted either. Today, I figured it out. I sat in front of my father's desk, staring at the papers on the floor in front of me. I frowned and picked up one of the documents. It was an adoption form and it had Alfred's name on it. I glanced at the stairs before I started sifting through more papers. There was my adoption form – all filled out with a signature to match. There were lots of other papers, probably more clues for me to piece together what I was staring at. But I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Frowning, I set the papers aside and started looking for the library forms I'd originally been sent down here to find. I didn't find them though. I sat there for a few more minutes in the dim basement light, trying to collect myself. "Hey, Matt!" Alfred called down the stairs and I looked over at them again, startled. "Did you find them?"

I got to my feet and headed upstairs. Alfred was standing at the top. "No luck," I told him, still not quite over what I'd seen.

He stared at me for a minute and then nodded, seeming to drop his suspicions for now. "Alright. Well, looks like we'll have to go in and try again." I made a face but agreed as he grinned happily. We went out through the garage and climbed into his car. "Can't believe we lost them... So time-consuming. Anyway, so what's wrong?" After starting the car, he pulled out of the driveway and took off down the street.

I glanced at him. I knew that most of the time, Alfred was extremely unobservant. But he could figure me out rather quickly when he did pay attention. Still, it always caught me off guard when he picked up on my mood so quickly. I sighed and looked out the windshield. "Have you ever thought about...about our relation to our parents?" I asked, trying to edge my way around what I really had to say.

Alfred considered this for a moment. "I figure a lot of times that I could always put in a little more effort in our relationship but... That's not what you're talking about?" He sounded confused now. "What _are _you talking about?"

"I'm talking about DNA," I clarified, shaking my head. He didn't look like he got it. "I found adoption papers while I was looking for those library forms." His hands grip a little tighter on the steering wheel. "I never thought about it before. It didn't ever occur to me. But now that I know...it almost makes sense..."

"How?" Alfred asked stiffly. "I mean, they're our parents. Or, I thought they were. How does it make sense that they're suddenly not?" He leaned around me to check the mirror on my side before switching lanes.

Thinking carefully about this, the first thing that came to my mind was, "Well, our physical appearances. They look nothing like us." But that's as far as I could go at that moment. Even though I'd brought it up, I still wasn't sure I wanted to know. I knew that I'd be picking up on differences from that moment on - that was almost completely unavoidable. Once I had something in my head, it was hard to dislodge it; it was hard not to notice things that related back to the subject. It was how I worked. I wasn't known as "the most observant" on our ballroom team at school for no reason.

"That's true..." Alfred admitted slowly. He looked conflicted and I almost wished I hadn't said anything. He sighed. "You know, it explains a lot more than that. It explains why we always feel out of place at those family reunions we despise so very much." I nodded, remembering the last disaster of a family reunion and how we'd pretty much been sitting on the sidelines the entire time. "And why my personality clashes so bad with Dad's."

I almost commented on how his personality clashed with everyone's but didn't. He was right. "I know I brought it up but we're almost at the library. Can we talk about it later?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied as we pulled into the library's parking lot. "And we _will _talk about it later." I glanced at him and nodded, sure he wasn't going to forget. This was about as important to him as it was to me. Even if I didn't want it to be so important.

X x X

At six o' clock that night, I went to the kitchen to start dinner as usual. I stared at the counter and then at the refrigerator, trying to think of something to make. I'd been distracted all day with my discovery, finishing up some homework, and then going to ballroom practice. But Mom and Dad would be home in an hour and expect dinner to be on the table. I had no time to take a break. I walked briskly to the refrigerator and opened it up. There was some chicken on the bottom shelf that I'd pulled out this morning to thaw and forgotten about. I pulled it out and set it on the counter, staring at it and wondering what I'd been planning. I glanced at some of the condiments in the fridge door and remembered, "Teriyaki chicken over rice!" I pulled out the required sauce and set it on the counter before I closed the fridge and went to get the rice from the pantry next to it.

It was a short process, to get the rice going. The slowest – and my least favorite – part was cutting up the chicken. I pulled out a cutting board and a large knife and set to work. While I cut the chicken, I thought about my discovery. Why hadn't our parents ever said anything about it? It bothered me a little. In passing, I wondered if they were waiting for us to figure it out and ask. But that didn't seem right. We were in our junior years in high school. We should have been told. Right? This was something that we'd be able to figure out on our own anyway if we tried hard enough. So why did they hide it?

Then, as I glanced down at my progress, I wondered, _why are they _still _hiding it? _I pushed the chicken into the frying pan; having done this so many times, I had the procedure down flat. It sizzled and I stared at it, not amused. I'd thought that my life was pretty good here. But what if I could have something different? What would my life be like if my real parents hadn't wanted to give me up, but kept me instead? I pulled out a wooden spoon and started moving the chicken around in its pan. It was hard to imagine but I thought that maybe I'd be happier. Maybe I'd have friends. Maybe, on warm summer days, my family and I would be outside doing something together. I sighed dreamily.

"_I _raised you!" Mom suddenly shouted from down the hall. She was home early, I realized as I glanced at the microwave clock. "David and I _fed_ you, _clothed_ you, gave you _shelter_, and standards to live by!" She was following Alfred into the kitchen; my brother looked very defeated. "Doesn't that make _us_ your _real _parents? I think so! What do _you _think, Alfred?" He tried to stutter a response but she didn't wait for him to gain control of his tongue again. Angrily, she turned and stormed down the hall. A moment later, her bedroom door slammed shut. In the silence that followed, I paid close attention to the chicken to keep it from burning.

"No, it doesn't…" Alfred finally muttered. He sat at the table, in the chair backed to the fridge but it was closest to me. "I just want to know." His voice was weak and I had to turn down the fan to hear him.

I thought about that for a few minutes as I dumped the teriyaki sauce onto the chicken. This was the fast version; I was supposed to have let it marinate earlier. "So do I but sending Mom into a panic attack won't help," I told him, setting the sauce aside. "We'll just figure it out ourselves, okay?"

"They live in Kansas." His voice was barely audible. I couldn't look at him.

"What?" My hand was shaking a little so I focused more on stirring the chicken, trying to steady it. I couldn't come to a rational decision about why I was reacting like this.

"I did some research while you did homework – sifted through the papers and then got online. I'm not entirely sure – there's still a lot of information I have to go through. But if I'm right…they live in Kansas." Finally, I let my eyes wander over to him. His normally bright and playful blue eyes were dull and serious. He was wearing his "lazy" outfit of a loosely-fitted white T-shirt and faded blue jeans; he'd kicked his shoes off when we'd gotten back from ballroom practice. His "lazy" outfit made him look both frazzled and defeated at that moment, though. "I read some newspaper articles. I don't think we were just adopted…"

His voice trailed as Dad walked in, looking powerful in his fury. He was normally an intimidating man anyway. He was almost always in a suit as he was a salesman at a local car dealership. But his strength was usually very obvious, his shirt stretching tight over his chest. People were often surprised to hear that Alfred and I were his kids because of all three of our very different personalities – Dad was strict and harsh; Alfred was funny and loud; I was quiet and observant. Tonight, however, he looked dangerous and his venomous tone helped the look. "Why is your mother locked in her room crying?"

"I don't know," Alfred said quietly. And he probably wasn't sure, though he might have a general idea. "I just mentioned that Matthew and I found out we were adopted today." Dad sucked in a sharp breath, madder than ever for reasons unknown to my brother and I. "I just wanted to know about our birth parents…"

"We didn't know them," Dad declared in that authoritative voice. And that was that. He left as Alfred stared at his feet and I went back to stirring the chicken. But I knew that wasn't a satisfying answer for Alfred. I knew it wasn't the end for him. And, somehow, I knew we would end up in Kansas, searching for answers to questions we didn't know we had.

~XxX~

**Arthur (****April 2, Thursday)**

I sat down heavily at my desk with a sigh. Propping my elbows on it, I rested my head in my hands and tried to ebb away my headache. I had less than a minute before my first student would wander in for second period. But, bless it, lunch would be less than an hour later. Sighing, I grabbed my water bottle and wandered out into the hall. Three of my students were already heading to class, talking animatedly about something. "They _quit_?" Antonio cried, shocked. He was a normally energetic boy anyway, his dark brown hair always messy like he never had time to tend to it in the morning and his green eyes alight with questions. He was tall and lean, but he often looked like he didn't quite fit his height. He gripped his backpack strap in anticipation. "But why would they do that? Alfred and Matthew _must _know that they're the best on their team!"

The names sparked an interest in me – one that I'd forgotten I had. I paid a little more attention as the kids walked past me and into the room. "Well, sure they do. Why do you think Alfred is so stuck up?" Lovino answered rudely. He was one of the more difficult students in any of my classes – never one to take a simple answer if he had a question. He always stood tall like he was proud of something but he rarely had anything to brag about. His dark hair was never as messy as his friend Antonio's, except for maybe a wild curl. And his golden brown eyes always held a challenge, though he normally didn't like to pick fights. "But the rumor says that they were slacking anyway. Either the instructor would cut them, or they would quit. And, honestly, quitting has more dignity in it."

His brother, Feliciano, agreed hastily, "_Sì,__sì!_" Feliciano looked a lot like his brother yet almost opposite. He almost always looked defeated and sleepy but was _always_ – without fail – energetic and happy. He didn't ask questions, generally. That bothered me because his note-taking skills weren't very good and he could stand to ask a few questions so he'd do better on his tests. Like his brother, his hair wasn't ever messy except for the curl that leapt out on the opposite side of his head than Lovino's. He always stood up straight but not in that challenging way his brother had mastered.

"But Matthew doesn't slack…" Antonio mused, looking thoughtful. I frowned, spinning and marching into the classroom. I had to force myself to slow down as I walked up to the trio who were just sitting at their desks. They looked up at me, rather startled. "Mr. Kirkland?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but who are you talking about?" I inquired as patiently as I possibly could manage.

Feliciano looked surprised. "Alfred F. Jones Anderson and Matthew Williams Anderson from Sidney Lanier High School. They're the greatest high school ballroom dancers this generation! Both placed first and second alternately three years straight in regionals! They got third and fourth when they reached the nationals last year."

"Oh," I whispered, caught off guard. Those were names I hadn't expected to hear again. What were the chances? There had to be other kids in this world with the same names as my children. I covered my mouth with my hand. "Are they brothers then?"

"Twins, I think," Antonio answered distractedly. "Sir, are you okay?"

I didn't respond right away. Disappointment hit harder than I'd expected. Well, my boys weren't twins. Case solved. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry to interrupt; thank-you." I dropped my hand, smiling politely and turned to leave, catching a frown on Lovino's face.

"Those are your boys' names, aren't they?" I looked over my shoulder at Lovino. "My grandfather told me your story once. Didn't they disappear thirteen years ago?"

"Twelve," I corrected tersely and walked back to my desk to recollect myself. _It had just been so unexpected_, I told myself. The bell rang and I found myself facing the quietest class I'd ever heard in my entire teaching career. I set my water bottle down and went to the whiteboard. "Right then. Does anyone have any questions on the homework?"

X x X

"Something bothering you?" Francis inquired as he sat down at the table that night. He looked concernedly at me while I picked pointlessly at my food. "_A__moureux__?_"

I looked up at him, feeling my eyes glaze over. "Sort of… You know, I heard something odd today…"

Francis stared at me a moment before asking, almost playfully, "Does this have to do with your current condition?"

"'Current condition'…?" I repeated slowly. I knew I _should _be mad but I couldn't bring myself to be. I shook my head. "I heard certain names today." I set my fork down next to my plate, staring at it. "It threw me. 'Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams.'"

"_Qu'est-ce?_" Francis choked out, dropping his own fork. "When? Why?"

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Our house had stayed virtually unchanged since out sons' disappearances twelve years ago. The furniture was still placed just right in each room; paintings and pictures never moved from their place on the walls; Alfred and Matthew's room were still the same – untouched with the door always kept shut. Nothing had changed around town either. Alfred and Matthew's names never arose – hardly anyone talking about what had happened. They didn't talk much about how Francis and I were doing, just about our work, mostly. "Some of my students were talking about an Alfred F. Jones Anderson and a Matthew Williams Anderson. Apparently they're twins and are currently the greatest high school ballroom dancers."

Francis lowered his eyes. "Oh…" I nodded, recognizing the same disappointment I'd felt earlier now in my husband. "Those _are _names I haven't heard in a very long time, it seems." But there was the acceptance that I hadn't been able to grasp yet. Francis got up and wrapped his arms around me as I began to cry. "Oh, _mon chère…_ I'm sure they're okay, wherever they are."

"I just want to _know,_" I sobbed, clutching at Francis's sleeve in a desperate attempt at comfort. "If nothing else than to stop the hope from giving way to disappointment like this…"

We were silent for a few minutes, trying to control ourselves. "I know, I know," Francis finally whispered. "I want the same thing…" We sat there for who knows how long, letting our food get cold and not caring. Eventually, my tears stopped and I just stared blankly ahead of me. "You go watch some TV, _oui_? I'll do dishes." I nodded weakly as he let go and stepped back. I got up and hugged him.

"I love you," I told him quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He chuckled softly and the mood seemed to lift a little. "Same. I love you, too." I let go, grabbed my glass of water, and headed to the living room. I had no intention of watching television. I had to finish grading some papers first. Then, maybe when I was finished, I could read a little bit. More than likely, Francis and I would end up falling asleep. Tomorrow would be like today never happened. At least, I hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alfred (March 29****, Wednesday) **

I sprawled on my bed, staring at the ceiling and lost myself in thought. It had been a little less than a month since Matthew had discovered those papers, since I'd been able to get on the computer to look into it. For a few days after, I'd been able to get on and search in hopes of finding some sort of lead – other than those newspaper articles which provided nothing but names and a city. I'd tried to find our adoption center, which I thought was smart. However, I'd been unable to gather any information on it. And then Dad had found out that I was looking and changed the password on the computer. I'd been trying every day since to figure the password out so I could continue searching but to no avail. He was too good.

I sighed and turned over to look at the time. It was almost two-thirty in the morning. Today was going to be a long day. I sat up and glanced around my room – the desk pressed up against the wall by my door and the bookshelf next to it; my bed under the window and my bedside table to my right. My dresser was hidden in the closet, who's door was slightly ajar. It was something I saw every day. I'd get up and get dressed, hobbling around the messes I never bothered to pick up; and then leave. My door was always shut tight and locked. Mom never understood why I locked my door but it was because I didn't want anyone to come in when I wasn't there. Call me slightly paranoid but I'd lost a few things once - had left them in plain sight - before I'd started locking my door and I was afraid that something else might be confiscated.

Crossing my legs Indian-style, I reached behind me to grab my pillow and hug it to my chest. My curiosity oftentimes would get the better of me. I was sure that now was one of those times, letting myself get so upset because I couldn't trace down something with such vague information. I hadn't been letting Matthew know how frustrated I really was so I was kind of missing his moral support. As much as I liked to think that I could do things on my own, I liked it when Matthew told me I was doing well – after all, he seemed to be one of the only people in my life right now that actually cared about anything I did.

Frowning, I climbed off my bed and stumbled to my bedroom door. I paused to look back at the shadows of wreckage I'd left behind me before opening my door and shuffling down the hall two doors to Matthew's room. I didn't bother to knock, just walked in. Unlike me, it seemed that he was having no trouble sleeping tonight. I wandered to his bed and sat down next to it. Even though I was there, I wasn't sure I wanted to wake him up. What was I going to say was bothering me? But it was obvious. It was what I hadn't said to him that day he'd found our adoption papers. Then I'd excused myself from saying it by thinking, "The opportunity just isn't presenting itself." I sighed, rubbing my forehead with the heel of my hand. But everything had been pointing in that direction since. Now, here I was: sitting in my bother's room with words on my lips that I hadn't fully accepted myself yet.

"Alfred?" Matthew croaked groggily. I looked up at him. He was sort of leaning over the side of his bed, his arms barely supporting him in his sleepy state. He was waking himself up, though; his silvery blue eyes were draining of sleep with every blink. "What's wrong?" He knew me all too well.

I stood up and pushed him back into his bed. "You're going to fall," I explained when he looked at me funny. I sat on the edge of his bed. "Nothing's _wrong_... I just have a theory that's been bugging me." I felt fidgety, staring at my hands and avoiding his questioning gaze. "You know how I mentioned that I'd found some newspaper articles?" He focused on me a little better as I glanced at him and he nodded. "Well, they talked about how an Alfred F. Jones Bonnefoy and a Matthew Williams Bonnefoy were kidnapped twelve years ago. Their parents, Arthur and Francis, had police help for the first five years but have had to settle for 'missing persons' flyers since." His eyes were wide. "I tried to pass it all off as mere coincidence but...when I looked for our adoption center, I couldn't find it. There were no leads from the hospital we were supposedly born at either."

We were silent and I watched his expression as he tried to absorb this. Finally, he asked, "So you think we were kidnapped and then our parents had our birth certificates faked?" His voice had a sense of self-loss and yet so much skepticism. But his next question showed how much he was feeling as though he'd already lost his identity. "Do...Do you _really _think that?"

I struggled with myself before whispering, "I think it's a high possibility." He sighed heavily. "I wanted to look into it some more but Dad locked me out of the computer. What I really wanted to do was look at our...those kids' birth certificates. But, I know, it's impossible. However, I do know that the boys disappeared the same year we were adopted, just a month apart."

"Oh no!" Matthew whined, obviously accepting the theory faster than me - and I'd been sitting on it for a lot longer now. "Does it all match up so well?" I looked at my hands again.

I nodded. "Everything but the parents' names and our birthdays." I frowned. "I couldn't find our birth parents. Either the names matched celebrities, people who had died before we were born, or there were no records saying they'd ever lived." I risked another glance at my brother. He looked miserable. "The Bonnefoys looked like interesting people, if not more average than I'd have thought. Arthur's a history teacher at a high school just outside the town they live in - Bartlett, Kansas. He teaches world history, current events, and government and citizenship. Francis is a marriage counselor - one of two in Bartlett."

Matthew shook his head. "You couldn't possibly be thinking of hunting them down?" I didn't answer. It had crossed my mind a few times since I'd read about them. Every time, I'd think that I'd want to tell them our story and ask for a DNA test. I wanted them to prove me wrong. Or maybe I really wanted to be right. I could never tell the difference. "Alfred, that's insane! What would we say? How would they react?"

I'd thought about what to say - had gone over all the different ways to ask, over and over in my head. I hadn't thought about their reactions. "I don't know," I answered vaguely, my head bowed again. "But they're the only lead I've found."

"So? Maybe we're just not supposed to know," he suggested. I could tell, when I looked at him, that he knew I couldn't settle for that answer. We sat in the dark, in a tense silence. Both of us waiting for the other to give first. A little moonlight was filtering in through his window, which faced the west so I knew we'd been sitting here for awhile. "Do you even have a plan to get there? Do you have an address?"

"I don't have an address. But it's a small town so I'm sure someone would be able to point us in the right direction." He gave me skeptical look so I pressed on, "We'd leave in the morning, pretend to go to school but just _leave_ instead. We'd pack my car the night before. It wouldn't be hard."

I had him there; we both knew it. "Then we'd end up in this little town, asking around. When we found them, what would we do?"

"Tell them our story. If they're as unsure as us, we get DNA tests," I answered confidently. My mind was whirring though. He was bringing up a few extra points that I hadn't quite gotten around to thinking about yet.

He smiled weakly. "You're not unsure. You already believe that you're right."

"It's a theory," I corrected him in a completely different voice and his smile vanished. His room, that had always been so comforting, now held dangers with ideas that were floating around through the dark. "I'm afraid I'm wrong. Maybe I've missed or misread something. It's scary - scary to think that our supposed birth parents are in Kansas and we're living with liars who kidnapped us. And how can they be our _birth _parents when they're _both _male?" A note of hysteria crept into my voice at the end and I broke down crying. "I'm terrified. But what else can I do? Except go and find everything out from the only two people who seemed to have a _high _possibility of being our only _real _connection..."

Matthew stared at me. Then he sat up and hugged me, almost instantly stopping my tears. "You're right..." he whispered, letting go but setting a hand on my arm."We have to go - if for no reason except to be disappointed." I laughed at that. "Or to be really confused."

"No in between?" I teased, elated. He grinned.

"Go to bed. We'll pack tomorrow after school, okay?" I nodded and hopped off his bed. At the door, he said, "I'm crazy for hoping this works, aren't I?"

"Only as crazy as me, bro." I closed the door behind me and crept back to my room. I tried to be quiet heading to bed but ending up loudly crashing to the floor after slipping on a piece of paper. It was probably homework, with my luck. But I didn't care. Because tomorrow, Matthew and I would leave for Kansas. We would leave this behind for an old life with new possibilities.

My dreams were of butterflies and birds, all flying toward space. Below them, their cages lay dormant and bent.

~XxX~

**Matthew (April 1, Sunday)**

The highway stretched out in front of us, seeming as though it would never end. We'd been on the road all day, only stopping at gas stations to go to the bathroom. We'd had to stop twice for ice already. I was getting squirmy but not quite bored yet. There was a lot of new scenery that I'd never thought I'd want to see before. We'd left the state early this morning, had headed though Mississippi, and were almost to Memphis, Tennessee now. Alfred was fairly confident that we'd reach Arkansas by tonight – as traffic through a few towns had been rather annoying. Mississippi had still had all the green from Alabama but as we had reached the border, we had started leaving the trees behind.

There weren't any towns out this way, just a few scattered farms. I made my own fun for awhile by naming several cows across from a gas station we happened upon. Mostly, I daydreamed and flipped through radio stations. Alfred liked to comment on the names of the stations, the deejays, and the music. He rarely had anything nice to say so when we got reception, I'd coax him into rants that we both ended up laughing at.

For the most part, I was enjoying the time with my brother. We'd always been each other's best friend but out in no-man's land, we could talk for hours. Once, we complained about the Anderson's parenting skills for two hours. Then we proceeded to joke about "what could be worse" for another hour or so. We'd both been pretty quiet for awhile now. For me, getting farther and farther from Alabama made this more and more real. I was starting to fear the consequence of going home if this was a bust. But every time I got too close to a panic attack, Alfred seemed to sense it and he'd find something to say to distract me.

I noticed, as we drove into Memphis, however, that I didn't need distracting. This city was _plenty_ distracting. With the sun setting, lights were flicking on and bringing the city to life again. It wasn't quite what I'd imagined it to be but, at the same time, it was _exactly_ what I'd imagined it to be. I leaned against the window, trying to soak up as much as I could as we passed through. People were coming out for the clubs that were just opening for the night; others were heading home from a long day at work. Random shops closed down for the night; other places were lighting up, inviting people inside. Alfred laughed and I looked over at him. "What?"

"You remind me of an overly curious dog, trying to stick his head out the window," he answered happily. "Will your ears flap in the wind too?" I ignored that but decided not to press up against the window again. I settled on staring out the windshield again, which had a view just as impressive. His laughter died rather quick and he sighed. "Sorry. I was kidding…"

"I know," I told him in a rather exasperated tone. I wasn't really ticked so I tried to change the subject, make my tone lighter. "We've been driving all day. We're in the middle of a city. Wanna stop and grab something to eat?"

Alfred glanced at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Yeah, I guess we should. I don't remember if there are anymore towns coming up or not…" He took an exit that led us a little deeper into the city, looking for a McDonald's, I was sure. I watched the buildings fly by in a slight blur, trying to pick out the restaurant.

"Are you okay?" I finally asked, sick of the silence. I felt like there should be more noise but I was unwilling to turn on the radio. "Sorry I wasn't much fun. I'm getting nervous."

Alfred smiled, looking relieved. "Oh, good. Because my nerves are all attacking each other. I'm not sure I'm very hungry - or am willing to eat for fear that I'll lose it all later." He laughed but it was weak. Our emotions were often in tune like this; years of communicating silently paying off. "But I'll eat just because I know I'll regret it later if I don't."

"I've got pretty much the same idea," I replied, making him smile again. There wasn't much more to say, however, as we pulled into a McDonald's parking lot. Seconds after Alfred had parked, we both jumped out of the car gratefully and laughed at each other's overenthusiastic expressions. Eager to be out of the car, we raced each other inside. "We need to make more stops," I told him, trying to catch my breath. I couldn't begin to fathom how he could still laugh so heartily.

X x X

After Memphis, it was Arkansas. We arrived later than Alfred thought and so we had to drive longer to find a town. I dozed off several times as there wasn't much to look at except for a few cacti every once in awhile and Alfred had to stop for an armadillo crossing the street some three or so hours ago. At one point, I had to pull out a soda for my brother and then switch places with him so that I could drive and he could sleep. After shifting to a very awkward looking position in which he had his back against the window and his feet still on the ground under the dashboard, he feel into a deep sleep that I was amazed at. As I drove, I wondered what would happen if the Bonnefoys really were our parents. It was a question that Alfred and I had touched briefly on earlier in the day but it still plagued my mind. I came up with several different possibilities: they'd be angry, they'd be happy, they'd be both, they wouldn't listen, and I kept going. It didn't help my nerves at all.

It was as silent outside the car as it was inside. And it made me nervous for some reason. Ever since I was little, I had always been told that I had an overactive imagination and that I could make the most peaceful situations seem scary. I didn't doubt that now. With my thoughts on how I was running headlong into the unknown, everything made me want to pull over and turn on all the lights or turn around and head home. But I'd promised Alfred that I'd see this out. And, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I needed to go. I knew that I had to find out if Alfred's theory was correct or not. I had to get myself back. Ever since he'd actually suggested that we'd been kidnapped, I'd felt like I'd lost who I was. I wasn't sure who my parents were or where I was born now. Was I even sure my birthday and age were right? That thought made me glance around to make sure I was alone on the road, for fear that I might be younger and maybe someone would find that out.

I passed a sign that directed me to get off at the next exit to get to a town called "Marked Tree". Making a face, I followed the directions and pulled out onto a road called "Frisco". I had to stifle my laughter at the name and instantly blamed Alfred for the direction of my thoughts. It took what felt like forever before I finally found the only motel in the town. At first, it looked too run down for me to want to stay. Then I glanced at Alfred and became too jealous of his deep sleep to pass up the chance to check in. I caught the receptionist right before she started shutting things down for the night. For being so late, she grinned brightly at me. While I paid for the room, she forced me into small talk of sorts that I found myself deeply uninterested in - especially after I realized she was trying to flirt. That annoyed me. But it was probably partly because I was so tired. Eventually, she handed me my key and I headed outside to wake Alfred up.

He was a deep sleeper, even in the awkward position he was in. After trying to shake him awake, I gave up and went to his side and opened his door. He flailed as he almost fell out. "What'd you do that for?" he shouted, upset as he tried to get back into his seat.

"You wouldn't get up and I got us a room. Come on, help me get the stuff out," I answered, going to the back and opening the door. I pulled out my suitcase and my backpack. Once he had climbed out, he managed his backpack, suitcase, and one of the two coolers. I grabbed the other, shut the door, and locked the car. Then we headed inside to get some sleep.

X x X

The next morning, Alfred and I packed slowly to prolong having to get back into the car. But, at last, we admitted defeat. I argued with Alfred until I was sitting in the driver's seat. Initially, he'd wanted to drive but I told him that it was my turn to drive all day. I found a gas station where we bought ice and traded the water in the coolers for the bags. Then we bought a few breakfast items there but ended up eating sandwiches for the main course. I was happier now that I was rested and somewhat full. Facing the Bonnefoys didn't seem so scary now. "It's supposed to be less than an hour drive from here," Alfred told me, his voice bright. "Do you think we can make it with no stops?"

I grinned. "As long as neither of us drink too much and we can go when we get there." He agreed enthusiastically. As we left, I turned on the radio and let Alfred make fun of every country song that came on. Through Arkansas and Missouri, we talked about what life was like back in Montgomery because we were gone; ate some and drank a little. It wasn't until we crossed the Kansas border that our nerves started making our stomachs roll again. We followed signs until we drove into Bartlett. "Where should we go?" I asked hesitantly.

He looked around and then said, "Let's go to that grocery store. We can go to the bathroom and find some food and ask the cashier where to find them." I nodded weakly and maneuvered into a small grocery store's parking lot. We sat in the car several minutes after I'd cut the engine. But our need to go to the bathroom eventually got us to go inside the store.

Afterward, we wandered around inside, trying to find cheap snacks because I was sure our funds were running low. "Can I help you?" a young woman asked brightly, appearing at the end of the aisle we were in.

I glanced at Alfred and he approached her with a friendly grin. "Yes; my name is Alfred F. Jones – that's my brother, Matthew Williams – and we're looking for either or both Arthur and Francis Bonnefoy. Could you tell us where we could find them?"

She stared blankly at him, her brown eyes wide with some sort of realization. For some reason, I acknowledged her more than I had the last girl I'd come in contact with. This one had golden brown hair and a curved figure. But she looked out of place in a dress, working in this grocery store. Sweeping her hair over her shoulder with her right hand, she finally said, "Um, well, they're both at work now. Arthur should be home around four. I don't remember when Francis will be back. But feel free to hang around here until then. I can give you an address later."

Alfred hesitated a moment before announcing, "That would be great! Thanks so much!" My opinion on the matter was conflicted. On the one hand, being out of the car for so long would be a huge relief. But lack of things to do for three hours would drive me mad. And I wasn't so sure I liked the girl much.

"Elizabeta?" a male voice called from somewhere up front. The girl gave us one last glance before scuttling off.

Alfred turned back to me and said in a low voice, "She makes me nervous…"

"Gilbert!" Elizabeta cried. Alfred and I walked to the end of the aisle to see a boy about our age standing at the entrance of the store. He was tall and proud-looking with wild, silver hair. But at that moment, he looked like a deer caught in headlights with his scarlet eyes wide. Alfred and I exchanged a curious and slightly worried glance.

"Oh, Elizabeta," he replied, voice surprised but rather subdued. "I didn't know it was your shift today. Does that mean Roderich is here too?"

Elizabeta made an annoyed face. "Yes, it does. So which class are you skipping today?"

Gilbert considered this and then answered, "Mr. Kirkland's class."

"What do you have against current events?" she inquired, walking to the checkout area.

He shrugged. "Most of it is too much of a bummer for me. Are you _really_ going to call him?"

"Yes. Better than your grandfather, _igen_?" She had a scolding tone in her voice now.

"Barely," Gilbert snapped, but clearly defeated. "Well, I'm going to get food then. That's why I was back here anyway."

I pulled back and looked at Alfred. "So Arthur goes by Mr. Kirkland at school?"

"I guess so. Maybe? He's one of two teachers who teach that subject though," my brother answered, sounding confused. "Maybe he's afraid of getting confused with Francis – which sounds like a funny thought. Wait until you see them. I saw their pictures in the newspaper I found online way back when. They look nothing alike. I'm sure that if he really wanted to, Arthur could go by Mr. Bonnefoy at school."

I rolled my eyes. "You're only slightly enthusiastic." Alfred grinned. "Anyway, why don't we get some food and explore the town a little?"

"Not much to see," Gilbert commented in a bored tone. I jumped, having not realized he'd walked over. He was facing the shelves but kept glancing at us. His eyes scared me.

"I'm sure!" Alfred boomed with a laugh that made me flinch. I still wasn't used to his outward persona. "But we have lots of time to kill so we're going go find out for ourselves."

Gilbert shrugged, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Whatever. Have fun in crazy town then." Somehow, I didn't find that very funny.

~XxX~

**Author Notes: **_Well, I do have a reason for introducing Gilbert so early on. And because the "I still wasn't used to his outward persona" line might confuse you: Alfred is quieter and calmer around Matthew than around everyone else in the world. Besides himself, Matthew knows Alfred the best. And this is killer chapter two. Hope you enjoyed it. Please review. _

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or characters thereof.


	3. Chapter 3

**Arthur (April 2, Monday)**

I glanced at the clock, annoyed. There was still forty-five minutes left of class. I sighed, making a face as I turned back to the assignments I was looking over. Suddenly, my phone started ringing and I resisted the urge to snap at some kids who snickered. The name on the caller ID didn't surprise me as Gilbert _was, _in fact, missing. I flipped open my phone and answered, "What's wrong?"

"_Nothing's really…_wrong,_" _Elizabeta answered cautiously. The tone in her voice told me differently._ "It's just…these kids are here to see you. Their names are Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams. I didn't really ask for their story but…"_

At first, my subconscious wouldn't let me absorb what I'd heard. How long ago had it been since I'd been disappointed by those names? This was too much. This was too soon. "Are you serious?" I asked anyway, my heart beating at a rapid pace. I guess my voice had risen a little because some of my students turned to look curiously at me.

"_Yes. _I _think that they look a lot like you and Francis…" _Her voice faded as she shouted, _"Gilbert, knock it off! I told you, you can't buy those! I'll call Roderich in!" _Then she was back, voice as pleasant as ever. _"Sorry. Anyway, I told them to wait around until you got back."_

However, I didn't respond to the bit about the boys right away. Instead, I grasped at a distraction. "Gilbert's there?" That didn't amuse me and it got me angry enough to clear my head and focus a little better. My sons could be sitting at Elizabeta's store and I was stuck in this classroom until two-fifteen. I suddenly felt rather fidgety.

Elizabeta made some sort of noise of acknowledgment. _"Yeah, unfortunately," _she muttered, irritated. She was still young, twenty or twenty-one – I couldn't remember – and oftentimes let herself sound like a teenager again. While it seemed to annoy a lot of older people in town, I thought it was a funny trait of hers.

"Well, that explains why my classroom is so quiet," I mused, thinking back on what she'd said about Alfred and Matthew. "Did you ask them where they're from?"

"_Um…No…" _Her hesitance worried me and I started gnawing on my lower lip. _"I suppose I can ask if you want. Arthur, are you okay? You're much calmer than I thought you'd be."_

"I can't very well get all worked up in the middle of my class, Elizabeta," I reminded her softly. Most of the students who had turned to look at me had turned back to their work but their presence still bothered me. "And besides, neither of us are sure who exactly they are, right?"

"_Yeah… Oh, hold on." _Her voice faded as she started talking to a customer – not Gilbert from what I could tell. While I waited, I flipped unseeingly through the papers on my desk. It was mostly late work so I knew whatever score they got would be dropped a few points; therefore, I wasn't very worried about grading them at the moment. I wrote the date at the top of a worksheet so I wouldn't forget when they'd turned it in. _"Alfred said they're from Alabama. Or, they grew up there. But they weren't born there. He's confusing me."_

I frowned, remembering the Anderson boys Antonio and his friends had been talking about last month. "Hmm. Sounds like an interesting story. I'll be happy to hear it when I get off but I have papers to grade, Elizabeta. The end of the term is next week."

Elizabeta let out a frustrated cry. _"I know that! That's why I'm going to call Alderich when I'm done talking to you." _Gilbert shouted a protest in the background. _"But you should seriously meet these boys. They're going to wait for you to get home anyway. So wouldn't you rather face it sooner rather than later?" _

"Not really," I admitted. Some sort of burning hurt ignited in my chest. "I really don't feel like getting my hopes up again. It's been twelve years. Why would they be here?" This sparked more interest around the classroom; those who knew my story looked over at me with eyebrows raised.

I received silence on the other end for a minute or two; a sick sense of triumph welled in my chest until I heard a new voice, _"Arthur Bonnefoy?"_

"Yes…" I replied slowly, confused. "Who is this?"

"_My name is Alfred F. Jones. I'm really sorry to be bothering you at work – I'm sure that you have better things to be doing. But Matthew, my brother, convinced me to try and talk to you real quick," _Alfred explained in a rather cheery voice. His brother cried something to the effect of "I did no such thing". I couldn't help but snicker at that. _"So, the short version of our story is that we were raised in Alabama and it wasn't until sometime last month that Matthew found our adoption papers. That's great and all except I couldn't get any sort of information about our adoption. It was like there was no trail to follow and our parents refused to say anything on the matter. Well, then I found your story. Your sons were kidnapped about the same time we were supposedly adopted. We'd really like to meet you. Prove or disprove that we're your kids. We can find something to do until you get back here, if you need to stay late. That's okay."_

He was so friendly and confident. For a minute, I couldn't get past that. If I hadn't actually heard what he was saying, he might have been talking about his favorite TV show. But once his story sunk in, I couldn't bring myself to say a word. The idea was swimming in my head. "Um…" I started but my voice gave the same instant. I stood up and paced the back of my classroom until I could talk again. "Well, I suppose I could be back by three… How old are you?"

There was a pause and then Alfred replied, _"I'm seventeen, I think…" _He sounded hesitant now, like he was afraid that this information might instantly prove him wrong – which, in a way, did. _"But I've heard a lot of people say I look too young to be so old." _He laughed and I figured he must know that made little to no sense.

"I'll hear you out when I get there, okay?" I settled on saying after a moment of puzzling over his statement. He agreed happily and gave the phone back to Elizabeta. "Why'd you to that?"

"_You wouldn't listen," _she answered simply. _"Anyway, I know you're _super_ busy so I'll let you go. See you at three!" _Then she hung up.

I pulled my phone away from my ear and stared at it as the screen blinked back to my wallpaper. I'd finally stopped pacing but I realized that my movement had attracted some attention from my class. I looked at them, unable to show them how _not _amused I was by their inactivity. "Don't you have a test to be taking?" I asked, my voice slightly weaker than I would have liked. They all turned back to their tests and sounds of pencils scribbling on paper filled the room. Sighing, I went and sat back down at my desk. However, I knew there was no chance I'd ever be able to get any work done now. I sat there, tapping a pencil against my desk until I decided to text Francis.

The moment I'd set my phone aside, one of my students, Heracles, wandered up to hand in his test. "You know, it's hypocritical for you to tell us not to use our phones when you can use yours…" he muttered but I wasn't sure if he really wanted me to say anything back to him. Heracles was one of my favorite students, not because he was an angel in class or always made it easy for me to give him good grades. No, he was one of my favorites because he was interesting. I wasn't ever sure what to think of him. He was somewhere around average height, had a rather slender build but always looked tired and like he'd be more willing to be anywhere else but where he was at that moment.

"Well, if you ever have a life emergency, let me know and then maybe you'd be able to use your phone. As it stands, no one in this classroom besides myself has a good reason to be using them," I replied simply. His olive green eyes searched my face questioningly before he decided something and shrugged.

"I suppose that's true," Heracles mused, his thoughts seeming to drift off. "So if my sister were to break her leg while carrying heavy boxes up stairs and all she could think was to call me, I could use my phone?"

I stared blankly at him for a moment before smiling._ Always the philosopher_, I thought sarcastically. "You don't have a sister." His lips twitched in a lazy sort of smile in return. "But, yes, I suppose that would classify as an emergency."

"I wonder if I could convince my father to adopt a little girl…" His statement was obviously for my amusement as he walked away after saying it. I snorted and looked down at my papers again, flipping through and putting the date in the right hand corner of each one. After that, I started correcting tests as students handed them in. Heracles had successfully distracted me. I shook my head as I realized that. But it made me wish that more of my students were respectful. I'd only encountered one student that had respect for his elders – he'd graduated a year ago and was now working at Elizabeta's store, though.

My mind wandered after awhile of staring at test answers that made me wonder if I needed to improve my lectures or if the students just took pleasure in failing – or, in some cases, both. There were only ten minutes left and no one was testing anymore. I stood up and walked to the front of the classroom, leaning against the whiteboard. I was relieved when the room quieted rather quickly. "So, the term ends next Thursday. I want all work in by next Tuesday so I can get it all into the computer. However, that doesn't mean you should rush to get every assignment you've failed to turn into me on my desk on that day. I hope that you have a little more sympathy than that." A few kids smiled and giggled. "Other than that, we'll have a catch-up day Wednesday and start on unit seven Friday." I glanced at the clock and said, "Now let's start the week off nicely and everybody get out of my classroom."

Almost all the students cheered as they gathered their stuff and left. A few of the students remembered to thank me on their way out. Once the classroom was empty, I frowned. It was time for me to face Alfred and Matthew. Sighing, I pushed off the board and went to my desk to pack up for the day.

X x X

It was three-ten when I walked into Elizabeta's store. She came to greet me almost immediately after she saw me but I noticed two boys standing by the checkout counter, nibbling on chocolate bars and looking utterly bored. My entrance sparked some interest in them, however. And it was the moment that they looked over at me that I knew exactly who they were. I sucked in a sharp breath as Elizabeta introduced Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams. "So, you came all the way from Alabama just to talk to me?" I asked after Elizabeta had disappeared in a back room.

"Yup!" Alfred declared, grinning from ear to ear. I tried really hard not to melt at his thrilled expression but it didn't work. I felt a small smile tug at my lips. "Look, we knew it'd be hard to believe. So I remembered to bring something that I dug out of my closet before we left." He reached into one of his pockets and brought out a little blue book. I had to do a double-take. It was navy blue with a grass green stripe down the front. In bold black letters down that stripe was the name, "Alfred." My smile instantly vanished and my insides quivered a little with anxiety. "It's probably not much of a clue but I flipped through it and...I don't know. It's just my little kid self rambling, maybe. Take a look?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had that?" Matthew accused. I barely noticed as I reached for the book. At first, I didn't dare open it. It seemed too unreal and I was afraid that if I opened the book, there would be words I couldn't read – like in a dream – and I would wake up, heartbroken. But, finally, I opened it.

The first page was occupied by a doodle that brought back a fresh wave of pain as memories flooded my mind. I remembered the day I'd given Alfred the book. He'd run to get a crayon and immediately drew the picture of our family before I could explain it was to write in. I turned the page and read the first entry. It made me remember the days after I'd given him the book; every time I passed a room, it had seemed, he'd been writing in it. "Where did you get this?" I asked, unable to actually believe that he hadn't picked it up somewhere.

"When I was little," Alfred replied simply. "I don't remember when or who gave it to me but I remember writing later entries in it so I know I've had it for a really long time." His voice wavered at the end and then he added, "I also know it's mine because it mentions the Andersons by their name and not 'mom and dad' in earlier entries. The Andersons were our supposedly adoptive parents."

After a moment or two, I looked up at him. His blue eyes caught me and drew me in. "_I _gave this book to you when you turned four." His expression instantly changed from apprehensive to surprised. Several minutes went by and none of us seemed to be able to find words for what was running through our heads. Or at least, that was my case. "I'm sure I have plenty of questions but what about you?" I managed to ask once I'd gotten past my initial panic of their health. They both seemed to be fairly well – tall and lean but pretty built. At most, they seemed slightly underfed.

They looked at each other and then back at me. I expected Alfred to start because he seemed to be spokesperson but it was Matthew who asked, "What's our birthday?"

The lack of plural made me curious. "Alfred's is July fourth and yours is July first." They both made a face that clearly showed that they didn't understand something. "What?"

"Oh," Alfred said. "It's just we were raised thinking we were twins and our birthday was in August." He shrugged. "So how old am I then?"

This confused me more than the last question. I figured that since they hadn't been kidnapped on their birthday, their fake parents wouldn't know what their birthday was. But wouldn't they have asked the boys their ages? "You're sixteen and Matthew is fifteen." They took a moment to absorb that and then they took turns asking questions. Their inquiries ranged from simple things like what life used to be like before they were taken to more complicated and confusing things like what hospital they were born in and how life has been for Francis and I. I hadn't thought that my sons wouldn't know how old they were or what their birthdays were. But the truth also was that, deep down, I'd believed that I wouldn't ever see them alive again.

Finally, their questions slowed until it seemed that they couldn't think of any more to ask at that moment. They paused and then Alfred asked, "So what now?"

I'd been smiling, listening to them throw question after question at me and seeing how happy it made them to get their answers. But now I frowned, considering it. "Oh, wait!" I suddenly remembered, reaching into my pocket. I'd texted Francis but hadn't bothered to wait for his reply. Normally, I didn't text him at work so when I flipped open my phone and saw three messages, I knew I'd worried him. "Let me call Francis really fast. And then…" I hesitated. "Home?"

Both boys grinned from ear to ear. "Yeah, okay," Matthew agreed, letting slip more enthusiasm than he had until this point. I speed dialed Francis, now smiling again.

"Bonjour_,_" Francis greeted, rather calmly for his next statement. "_Are you finally going to tell me what's wrong?_"

I laughed, knowing that had been my first reaction. If Francis was anything like me – and he could be sometimes but more often he wasn't – he would need me to explain why I trusted that these boys in front of me were our children. "Nothing is wrong, I promise. But I wanted to tell you some good news. I also figured I should warn you before you get home."

There was a pause on his end and then he asked, warily, "_How is it good news and a warning at the same time, _miel?" I hadn't thought of how that would sound but now I felt bad that I'd worded it that way.

"It is good news but I didn't want you to be surprised to walk into our house to see our boys sitting in our living room," I replied honestly and Alfred snickered, obviously enjoying the idea. I, however, did not want my husband to have a heart attack. "Alfred and Matthew searched us out and I've been talking to them for the past…" I glanced down at my watch, surprised as I said, "Hour. But anyway, I wanted to let you know before you got home."

Francis didn't respond right away and I had a feeling that I knew what was going on in his head. "Mon chère, _are you sure it's them?" _He was trying to be skeptical about the situation – as I had – but his hopefulness was seeping through with more brilliance than I'd managed while talking to Elizabeta.

"Yes," I declared confidently. I looked back up at Alfred and Matthew who stared curiously back at me. "I'm sure."

"_Well, then…I'll be home in about an hour,_" he replied hesitantly, a slight tone of disbelief in his voice. "_Are… _D'accord. _I will see you soon then._" I agreed and we said goodbye.

I put my phone away and said, "So, assuming that you didn't hitchhike all the way here, you'll follow me in your car?"

"That's the plan," Alfred replied happily. Then he turned to his brother. "And I get to drive because as of this moment, you aren't allowed to drive."

"My driver's license does look to be null and void now…" Matthew muttered, sounding a mixture of disappointed and relieved.

Elizabeta came out from the back room with Roderich following. "You've been standing in my store for an hour. Did you finally get everything sorted out?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yup," Alfred cried enthusiastically and his brother flinched openly. "Thanks so much for putting up with us," he laughed.

She grinned. "No problem. Hope everything works out!" Roderich looked utterly confused and I wondered if she'd told him anything. "Oh, have you seen Gilbert around?" she asked, glancing around the store.

"No," Matthew answered, his voice definitely holding a tone of relief for this fact. "He disappeared at around two-forty-five, I think. He hasn't come back."

Elizabeta considered this and shrugged, turning to me. "Alderich hasn't come by, has he?" I shook my head. "Well, either Alderich caught him or he's still busy and I get to tell him his grandson ran off again." Then she laughed. "At least that makes this a normal end to my day."

I smiled, knowing she was definitely right about that much. At least she had something normal to do after a very odd day. I doubted that I would have that luxury. "We best be off so we don't make Basch suspicious of us."

"Oh, he wouldn't be over here unless I called and I haven't had the need to today," she replied lightly. "But I'm sure you do have other stuff to do. I'll talk to you later, then!" We all said our goodbyes and then left. Alfred and Matthew climbed into their car and I got into mine. Shortly after, I was leading them home. To me, the entire idea was strange. The overwhelming joy that filled me made me realize just how sure I'd been about never seeing my sons again. This was something I'd never thought would happen in this lifetime. I'd never imagined that I could have my sons again.

~XxX~

**Francis (April 2, Monday)**

When I first climbed into my car, I couldn't bring myself to do anything except shut the door. Arthur had sounded so sure but the possibilities had never been good in my eyes. Why would Alfred and Matthew – assuming they were alive – have decided to search us out? How would they have known about us or where to look? As much comfort as I'd always given Arthur, I'd never felt that my words were close to true. Sometimes, I would feel guilty for practically outright lying to him but I hated seeing him so upset over something we could do nothing about now. I sighed and rested my head on my steering wheel, feeling that familiar ache in my chest when I let my reality hit me. _"Oh, mon chère, comment pourrions-nous espérer pour autant?" _I whispered into the silence, knowing no answer would ever come of my question.

Reluctantly, I sat up again and pulled my keys from jacket pocket. I found the right key and put it in the ignition, starting the car. As if on autopilot, I switched the gears and backed out of my parking space before shifting again and heading out to the main street. I knew that it was wrong not to believe my wife when it was such an important thing to the both of us but the idea was so insane, I couldn't help it. There was no way for me to accept the idea that our sons – twelve years after their abduction – could suddenly be alive, well, and home once more.

I drove silently home, contemplating who could have possibly fooled Arthur, why and how. Unless he was imagining the entire thing, nothing made sense any way I looked at it. Weary and cautious, I pulled into the garage and climbed out of my car. At the door inside, I paused. For a moment, a thundering hope invaded my mind and washed all my doubts out. It was almost enough to make me throw open the door and burst inside. But the impossibility of it all hit me again and I slumped through the doorway and toward the kitchen where all the voices were. Sitting at the end of the table was Arthur and on either side of him were two blonde boys who both looked up at me when I walked in.

"Francis!" Arthur cried, turning around and leaping out of my seat. He bounced over to me and I couldn't help but smile at the energetic way he threw himself into my arms. It had been who knows how long since I'd seen him so happy. It made me feel good but at the same time, I eyed the boys suspiciously. They stared back, uncertain. Arthur stood back and looked into my eyes. I knew instantly what he'd find there and I felt slightly ashamed of it. "I didn't believe it either at first," he surprised me by saying, his voice gentle. "But Alfred showed me something I _could_ believe."

One of the boys, I assumed Alfred, stood up. He was a tall, lean boy with subtle muscles showing in his arms. But his face looked bright and cheerful; his brilliantly blue eyes shone like there was always a light on behind them. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a little navy blue book with a green stripe down the center. It had his name on the front. "It didn't seem like much but I remembered writing some of the later entries in it. And it mentions the Andersons by name – they were our supposedly adoptive parents."

He hesitated and the other boy said, "See, we thought that the Andersons were our parents but last month, I uncovered some adoption papers. Alfred did his best to track down as much information as he could about our supposed adoption but nothing appeared. It was a dead trail from the start. He found your story and it matched all too well with our situation. We had to come out to see if you could prove or disprove us. Arthur's more than confident about it. That doesn't mean we won't do whatever we have to find out for sure, though." His voice was quiet but had a sort of inner strength to it. I considered him. He looked almost identical to his brother except in the hair and glasses. His frame seemed slightly less built than his brother's as well.

But Alfred extended the book toward me and I couldn't resist. I took it and flipped to the first page. It was what I'd wanted to see behind the flap, the picture that would tell the story they didn't know all the way through yet. I glanced at a few of the other entries but didn't really need to. For a moment, I just held the book in my hands. Then I walked forward, set it on the table, turned and left the kitchen. It wasn't that I didn't believe them because I did. I just couldn't face them at that moment. I went to the living room and sat down in my chair, staring out to my diagonal right through the window. The sun was setting, dying the sky orange and pink.

I knew I had to go back out and face them again but at the moment, I wanted to take a deep breath and face the possibility. It was a possibility I thought had died seven years ago, maybe before then. Now my sons were sitting in my kitchen, waiting. I looked down at my hands with a frown. "Francis?" Arthur whispered from the doorway behind me. I didn't bother to move because I knew he was worried enough that he'd walk over soon anyway. "Francis…I…"

"I believe them, that's not my problem," I assured him as he walked over like I'd expected. He sat down on the arm of the chair and wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing his forehead to my hair. "I didn't think it could happen."

He kissed my cheek and said softly, "I didn't think it could either. But they're here. Shouldn't we make the best of that?" A small smile crept to my face as I nodded slightly. "I tried to answer all their questions as best as possible earlier but I'm sure there are some they'd like to ask you as well. And then we get to start asking _them_ things."

I turned my head so our foreheads were pressed up against each other's. "I don't know how you do it," I murmured, my smile growing a little. "You're so amazing…"

"I don't know how I'm any more amazing than usual," he replied. He grinned when I smacked him lightly on the back of his head. "You have to come actually meet them. They're wonderful boys – everything we wanted them to be and they had to figure it out mostly on their own. I'm very proud of them, really."

I gently pressed my lips against his and when I pulled away, I sighed. "Yes, I know I need to come meet them. I have to get up first." He laughed as he got off my chair and stood, waiting for me. I pushed myself out of my chair and wandered over to him, folding him in my arms. "Well, hopefully things will turn out well after tonight, _oui_?" I smiled.

"I can only hope so," he replied and I was struck with the irony of that statement. For several years, we had tried so hard not to hope for anything relating back to our kids because every time we tried, it would hurt us more than anything else. This time, it seemed that hoping was an option – maybe an only option. While Arthur sounded ready to embrace the idea, I was wary of more pain. But still, I smiled at him. His bright green eyes asked me the simple question I knew he probably couldn't form on his lips. I knew that I had to do my best for him and the kids now. If nothing else, I needed to try my hardest to keep Alfred and Matthew here this time. Everything else, it seemed, would fall into place if I could do that much.

~XxX~

**Author's Note: **_miel_ – honey

_Mon chère_ – My dear

_D'accord_ – Okay

_Oh, ma chère, comment pourrions-nous espérer pour autant?_ – Oh, my dear, how could we hope for so much?

Sorry if my French isn't…correct in any way. Actually, I'm going to apologize for all the translations in here right now in case they're not right. But I don't think I'll be putting too many phrases in other languages in this story. I like small phrases for the mood or the fluency in the story but going back and forth to a translator gets really old really fast. So hopefully I won't bother you too much with them.

In any case, hope you still like the story. Please review.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or characters thereof.


	4. Chapter 4

**Gilbert (April 3, Tuesday)**

There were lots of things that pissed me off but the worst was when I had a story to tell and no one would listen until they realized that my story might actually have fact in it. I didn't normally outright lie about things, although I sometimes stretched the truth. This time, I didn't have to stretch any truth to make an interesting story and no one was listening to me. I knew that Antonio, Lovino, and Feliciano wouldn't have Mr. Kirkland's class until second period which meant I had to wait until lunch before they'd listen to me – if Mr. Kirkland wasn't there and I suspected he wouldn't be. That was a really long time for me to have to wait. I didn't like the idea. I wanted to tell them now because it was a good story. I knew Feliciano would have the appropriate reaction and maybe Antonio. That's what I was waiting for. I couldn't care less about the story itself. I wanted to see their reactions.

I frowned as I left the auditorium where our group always sat in the mornings and wandered to my first period class. I had English for first – I didn't know whose bright idea it was to have a class like that so early but I'd decided I was rather grateful it wasn't math and so my English teacher didn't feel my wrath most days. I was setting out toward the English hall when Mathias caught up with me. I didn't mind him so much. He was less annoying than some of my friends. But we were both proud kids and sometimes we didn't get along very well because of that. "So, got another story to tell but no one's going to listen? Try to stop playing the boy who cried wolf and you might get somewhere faster," he commented snidely. That was what I was talking about.

I snarled. "I'm not the boy who cried wolf. I'm smarter than that." He snorted. "I am! I'm flipping awesome, dang it! I'd never let some stupid wolf eat my sheep!"

"Well," Mathias started thoughtfully. "I do actually believe that. Except you have no sheep to look over." I punched his arm. "And, anyway, like that would ever stop you. You'd still scream wolf if you thought people would listen."

I shrugged. "Maybe." He laughed again. "Get to class, Mathias." I shoved him into a nearby wall and, in return, he pushed me into a wall of lockers – which, in my opinion, hurt worse than bricks. "_Autsch_..."

"Who made you Nazi hall monitor?" Mathias grunted, sprinting ahead of me before I could slam him against the wall again. I frowned unhappily at his back but couldn't dwell on his comment long as I entered my English classroom. Glancing around, I noticed the substitute and glared at him. I disliked subs because they generally had no idea what was going on and they made my whole day suck more than usual. This substitute seemed younger and more skittish because, as I passed him, he flinched under my stare.

That made me smile.

X x X

"How'd you know Mr. Kirkland wasn't here today? You don't have him until tomorrow," Lovino said in one of his more annoyed tones. We had just gotten our lunches and were walking toward our table where Ludwig was already sitting.

I shrugged. "I just had a hunch," I replied in my most casual tone. But I was oh so pleased because now I knew he, Antonio, and Feliciano would listen to my story.

"You're lying," Antonio declared as he sat down. I watched Feliciano set his tray down and then sit in Ludwig's lap. My brother looked less than thrilled but not dissatisfied. I didn't understand their relationship. "For real – how did you know?" He sat down next to Lovino, leaving me to choose between sitting next to him or my brother.

I sat next to my brother for safety reasons. "I tried to tell you this morning, you know. His sons are home." It was quiet all around the table for a few moments while I calmly mixed my rice and chicken together. Then they all started talking at once. I paid them little attention as I ate my food. When it finally quieted, I said, "I met them."

"How are you sure?" Ludwig demanded as Ivan and Mathias came and sat down. "I mean, it _is _you, after all."

The "boy who cried wolf" conversation popped into my head and I frowned in annoyance. Mathias must have remembered too because he laughed. "I'm sure because I heard Elizabeta talking to Mr. Kirkland. And said teacher _is _missing today."

Everyone was silent as they considered this. Then Feliciano cried enthusiastically, "Tell us _everything_!" He grinned in that annoying way of his. But that was all the prompt I needed. I told them about how I'd met the boys first – pointedly not mentioning their names – and then how I'd eavesdropped on Elizabeta's phone call. I told them everything I could remember about what Elizabeta had said.

Lovino still looked rather skeptical. "You're holding back, Gilbert. What's the moral of the story?"

"Moral?" I inquired, grinning. "There is none." Lovino glared at me with a very annoyed expression on his face. "But you're right; I _am_ holding back. I haven't told you why you should care."

"No, you haven't," Lovino replied, his voice a tad bit more bitter. "Don't hold back, now. Please, tell me why the frick I should care about my teacher's personal life!" Antonio glanced swiftly at him, his expression torn between annoyed, amused, and worried.

My grin spread wider. "His kids are Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams – used to be Andersons." Or maybe they still were. I wasn't actually sure if they would take on their parents' last name or not. But I didn't have to say that. They all got the picture.

"_Bugiardo__!_" Lovino shrieked, slapping his hand onto the table. This startled Feliciano into almost falling off Ludwig's lap. If it wasn't for the fact that my brother cared, he probably _would _have fallen.

"Lovi..." Antonio whimpered, resting a hand on his boyfriend's forearm. Lovino seemed to visibly calm down though he was still glaring intensely at me. Antonio then looked at me. "It doesn't make sense." But he seemed unable to expand on _why _it didn't make sense. I smirked at him.

"I did not think you cared," Ivan said to me thoughtfully. Mathias agreed warily, as if he was afraid of why I _did _care. He of all people knew that it would all come back to benefit me in the end and I was sure he was trying to figure out how.

"I don't," I finally admitted. "I care about your reactions and they were worth it." I grinned again. "Plus, I could get a bonus if Alfred and Matthew end up coming to this school and join the ballroom team."

"How...Why would that be a bonus to you?" Feliciano asked, seeming to be trying to understand my reasoning. He never did understand what went on in my head – no one really did and I liked it that way – but I never got why he kept trying to see my logic when it was generally very obscure. Feliciano was someone I didn't quite comprehend. Somewhere inside my head, I realized that that was probably a reason Ludwig loved him so much.

I sighed and opened my mouth when Mathias said, "It's because if the Andersons join the ballroom team, the team might actually improve and you guys will stop complaining about how you all suck so bad. You know, there's a reason I stopped coming to your shows." Lovino's jaw dropped and I felt an explosion coming on. But Mathias shrugged. "I personally think all your newbies need to be cut and you should try to find people who will take the competition seriously. You know – the ones that actually want to make it to nationals."

Antonio sighed dejectedly. "I thought about that, too. But the harsh truth is, these are the best people our school has to provide. Ballroom isn't big here and those who care only think they're good enough for regionals. We've tried almost everything we can – sometimes it seems like it's lack of motivation and other times, it's like they refuse to practice to get better. It's so frustrating. I'm not sure that even if the Andersons joined that they'd make much of a difference to our team. It's a depressing thought, really."

"It's true," Feliciano agreed glumly. "So don't hold your breath, Gilbert." I rolled my eyes at him. I wasn't hoping, necessarily. I just figured that if they even had the idea in their heads, I might be able to escape their insistent whining – even if it was just for a little while. There was a little part of me that knew I was probably setting a death trap for myself in the sense that their hope could make them chatter more about their team than usual. But the conversation turned after that and so it was mostly forgotten.

~XxX~

**Matthew (April 3, Tuesday)**

I stared out the window, wishing for something other than sunshine outside. It was such a contradictory scene compared to what I was feeling inside. I was sitting in a police station with Alfred and the Bonnefoys, trying to sort out our story and what should happen now. I'd convinced everyone earlier in the day to get DNA tests – just so we'd have it for reference if the police needed it later. There was a part of me that was fretting over those currently unknown results. But most of me was terrified of the officer in front of me. Apparently, Francis and Arthur knew him and it was because of that that we'd gotten him to deal with our case. He was tall and built with shaggy blonde hair and serious blue eyes. When he'd first seen Alfred and I, he'd studied us for a few dragging minutes and that made it increasingly difficult to not give into my anxiety now.

At the moment, he was talking to Alfred about our life at the Andersons. I knew my turn would be next and so I was trying – _really hard _– to keep myself in check. It wasn't that I'd always had issues with anxiety or that it was generally this bad. It was that I wasn't used to people paying me any sort of attention. I'd never done well under pressure though. When people waited for me to say something, I always had issues not giving into a quick panic attack. This was a bit much for me. Everything was happening way faster than I'd anticipated and I wondered what exactly I had thought would happen.

When Alfred stopped talking and Officer Basch looked at me, I fidgeted before getting out of my seat and stepping into the hall. It took me a second to realize I needed to breathe. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, knowing I couldn't escape out here for very long. I knew I'd have to go answer for just leaving. Someone opened the door and I opened my eyes a little warily to see the officer closing it behind him. He didn't smile but he didn't look as stern as before. "I was waiting for you to run, actually," he admitted, not really looking at me. "You looked too tense."

"Sorry," I muttered, not exactly sure what he wanted me to say or if he wanted me to say anything. I didn't like dealing with police. I'd never been sure why but they always intimidated me.

A moment or two passed before he walked over to the wall opposite me and leaned against it. Carefully, his eyes met mine and they didn't look very strict – not like what I'd been staring into for the past hour or so. I felt myself relax a little more. "You know, your case is rather interesting. I've known the Bonnefoys for as long as I can remember. My sister used to babysit you and your brother all the time before you vanished. I think she was just as devastated as your parents were when you two vanished. I think it was because of the people involved that I worked so hard for so long to try and bring you guys back," he explained, his voice taking on a slightly regretful tone. "For five years, I tried to follow a trail I'd found based off the information Arthur gave me. But then it suddenly died and my boss told me to leave the case. I didn't want it to be cold. I wanted to keep looking…

"But I couldn't do much. There really was nothing more I could go off of. I kept looking in my free time, hoping to find new information that would help. In the meantime, I helped your parents with advertisement where I could to bring what little awareness was possible to you two. Nothing happened for seven years after I was forced to say the case was cold." He paused and there was an expression on his face that suggested he was distracted with remembered emotions in his head. "I think that we all kind of just wanted a closure." He looked at me again, his eyes holding some of the sternness he'd had before but not so harsh. "Suddenly, you're both back with such a…an interesting story to tell. I still can't think of how those people managed to do so much and keep you so sheltered that you didn't even know you were missing from anyone else's lives."

That struck me harder than I'd expected. He was right: I'd never imagined that anyone could be missing me. I'd never considered the possibility that anyone would be willing – or in this case, unwilling – to give me away. My story was odd. It was something someone would never think possible. Yet, I was here, standing in front of someone with his own story involving me. He'd known me and I'd just learned his name. It was slightly overwhelming. "Well…I have some theories about that, actually," I found myself saying in one of my softer voices.

"Willing to share them?" Officer Basch inquired in a formal tone but with heavy casualty. He made no movement toward the office we'd just left.

I bit my lower lip and then said, "I guess. It's nothing fantastic or anything. David worked at a car dealership so I figured that he'd know a lot of people coming in and out. He must have met someone who mentioned something about their work. If that was the case, he probably just talked them into helping him with some paperwork. Once he and Kimberly had the paperwork, they'd just need to hide it. They'd really only need the birth certificates for things like school and to prove we were alive – though the adoption papers were probably for security reasons. If anyone ever questioned why we didn't look like their children, they'd just pull out the papers."

Officer Basch studied me for a moment and then said, "Yes, that's probably true. You didn't have any idea you were 'adopted' before you found the papers less than a month ago?" He seemed wary about that and I knew why.

"It had never occurred to me. They never said a word about it," I told him honestly and then added, "I came up with my theory after I dropped one of my after school hobbies. I had a lot of free time and I'm one of those people who thinks things to death. It wasn't hard to come up with something like that; find something that was actually feasible and wouldn't make the whole situation seem so ludicrous."

He nodded, obviously thinking something over. "That's what I don't understand. You figured all this out in less than a month. And you came looking for Arthur and Francis. I don't understand how you could believe so quickly something that seemed so unbelievable."

I paused at that, debating whether or not to tell the truth. It seemed safer to not lie and Officer Basch seemed rather truthful himself. "I didn't like the Andersons very much. I'm sure that there was a fear inside me that I refused to acknowledge and when I saw the adoption papers, it all kind of made sense in my head. You know, all that shallow and obvious stuff. And then Alfred decided to look into it…" For a minute, I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure I could because the hurt was still there. It was embers of a betrayal I hadn't liked to face since Alfred had brought it up. There hadn't been a lot of time to think things over completely. But eventually, I finished, "And that made sense too. It made sense because the Andersons used to be so terrified when anyone outside our community recognized us; it made sense because they'd never told us we were adopted. Stuff like that. There was that fear inside of me that made it so easy to know that if I looked at it from every angle, I would see the same thing: the signs make sense but the story doesn't. I didn't know who I was and I wanted to find out."

Officer Basch just stared at me for a moment and I felt some sort of sympathy radiate from him. I lowered my eyes. He surprised me by saying, "Yeah, I've been having that issue with your story, too. It makes sense at the same time that it really doesn't. I wish you'd thought to bring the papers so I could see them. I mean, not that they'd do much good because if they're not on my files, they don't exist. And you have no idea how frustrating that is for me. Your schools shouldn't have processed your existence, technically. I can understand trusting the birth certificates but…" He shook his head and, true to his word, he looked insanely frustrated. "I guess I'm still glad that they're not in my files, though. If they were, that would make believing your story much harder."

I laughed emptily. "That's true. It's hard enough for me to accept that I'm not who I thought I was. Who knew that a piece of paper could carry such a big lie?" My laugh died and we stared at each other for a moment.

"Could I ask you to come back into my office so I can take some notes?" Officer Basch asked, his voice so much less harsh than earlier in the day. He was probably just as tired and confused about the whole thing as I was. The difference was, he had to look at the story more after this whereas I had other things I had to do. I nodded and we walked back into his office. Alfred looked up first, concerned, and then Arthur and Francis. I just sat down and looked at the officer as he scribbled something down and then started tapping his pencil against the desk. "Okay…That makes sense. And it makes my job so much easier." He sighed and nodded contentedly. "Anything else?" He looked at me when he said it.

I thought about it for a minute, trying to determine if there was anything Alfred might have missed or hadn't known. But I couldn't think of anything. I shook my head. After that, another half hour was wasted away with the Bonnefoys talking to Officer Basch a little more about the case and other legal matters that I had to tune out so I wouldn't get too overwhelmed again. There was so much we still had to do before life could really start again. At least, that's how it felt to me. I knew Arthur and Francis felt differently. To them, the moment Alfred and I had shown up, their life had started again. I couldn't imagine what it had been like for them for the past twelve years; what it was like for them now.

When we were all sitting in Francis's car after leaving the police station, I felt myself calm down a little again. It was still a lot for me but I was trying really hard to keep together. Arthur sort of turned in his seat and asked us where we wanted to go for lunch. I stared blankly at him, wondering how he could think of food. But Alfred's exclamation of, "McDonald's!" brought me back to life and I realized I really was hungry. I laughed and shoved him into the door. "You always want a cheeseburger."

He grinned and I was very thankful that my brother was the way he was. We did end up going to McDonald's – partly because I agreed with Alfred and partly because it was on the way to somewhere else. Francis and Arthur wouldn't tell us where we were going but their satisfied smiles told me the day wasn't even close to being over.

~XxX~

**Lovino (April 3, Tuesday)**

The end of the school day had finally arrived, much to my relief. There were only two things I didn't like about this time of day: I had to say goodbye to Antonio because Marcus disliked me and he rarely let my boyfriend come over on weekdays; and it meant hours upon hours of just Feliciano and Marcus. There would be no Antonio to keep me from getting frustrated at my brother and grandfather. That was always my least favorite part of my favorite part of the day. Then again, I always went by the idea that with every good thing, there had to be a bad part of it to balance it out.

I frowned as I wandered to my bus with Antonio's hand wrapped in mine. I liked the idea that he was my anchor in a world I couldn't control. Even though I put up such a fight with him constantly, I was always grateful to him and I always felt guilty for never being able to tell him that. Try as I might, the words never made it to my lips and I had a hard time giving him any other clue as to how I felt about him. Still, there were moments like this – where we wandered through a crowd together and didn't need to say a word to each other – that I believed he knew me well enough to figure me out when I tried hard to keep him out.

When we climbed onto the bus and were sitting down, I leaned my head against his shoulder and stared at our hands. He gave mine a small squeeze and I smiled. "You know, your smiles are so rare, I know I'm doing something right when I see one," Antonio commented lightly. I tilted my head up to look at him and wasn't surprised to see him staring down at me with a smile of his own. Defiantly, I frowned. "Oh, come on, Lovi!" he whined happily. It was hard not to smile at that.

"I don't see what there is to smile at right now," I replied, looking out the window instead of his face. I generally had to do this when I was trying hard not to give him what he wanted. If I could see the outside world, I'd remember that there was very little to smile about. But if I looked into his eyes, I'd forget that.

"You're such a pessimist," he teased in that light tone he had. "I don't know how I can put up with you." I let out a huff and was about to pull away when he let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "I'm kidding. I love you, Lovino. Wish you didn't have to doubt that." In a way, I hated it when he said that. He wasn't trying to make me feel bad – in fact, it was really his way of passing off the way I was as something he could handle. But it_ did_ make me feel horribly guilty. I pursed my lips, wanting to reprimand him for the comment and explain the way I felt. But not only was I unable to say anything, he didn't give me a chance. "So, Saturday… I was thinking we could do something fun. I know you don't like hiking but the weather is warming up and I know an amazing little trail with a perfect place to have a romantic picnic!"

I snorted. "There's nothing romantic about a picnic, I'll have you know," I informed him rudely. Instantly I felt guilty about saying that aloud. Grudgingly, I said, "But, yeah…I guess you could drag me to wherever this place is, if you really want."

Antonio laughed cheerfully. "I want," he replied and ran his free hand through my hair – much to my dismay. I jerked back but kept close enough that he didn't drop his arm from around my shoulders. "Don't be so grumpy!" he teased and kissed my cheek. I calmed down and leaned into him again. I heard Feliciano chattering away behind me at Ludwig and Gilbert muttering in the seat next to mine. Suddenly the bus started and lurched forward.

"The day's almost over," I muttered, my voice as close to wistful as I would ever manage to make it sound. I looked up at Antonio and he smiled brilliantly. That kind of made it okay. It was an assurance that if I woke up tomorrow morning, and put the effort in getting to school, he'd be there waiting. So I smiled for him and I could tell by his expression that it made his day. We spent the rest of the short bus ride in relative silence. I knew that even if he wouldn't admit it, he liked the moments that I was quiet and didn't argue with him about everything.

When we got off, we kissed goodbye for the day and then I marched ahead of Feliciano. I tried to extend the silence before I had to step into my chaotic house. I couldn't wait until I was old enough to leave and not have to put up with my brother and grandfather every day of my life. But Feliciano caught up fairly quickly and started rambling about something "horrible" that had happened to him today. We turned the corner to head down past the three houses to our home when my brother suddenly shut up. Blinking, I looked up and noticed the car parked in our driveway. "You're kidding, right?" I asked to no one in particular. "Why today?"

"They'd never come over to our house if you had your way," Feliciano whined in his annoying voice. He didn't ever seem to have a problem with anything and sometimes wasn't cautious enough for my liking. I disliked my brother but he was still my brother and so I tended to attempt to look after him sometimes. Generally, he was just too naive for me to be able to do anything for him and he got into trouble anyway. That was part of the reason I disliked him – because he was so frustrating.

I scoffed. "You're exactly right," I said and pushed him into a neighbor's grass. He whined but got back up and trotted to my side again. I rolled my eyes as we turned and went up our walk. I reached for the doorknob but Marcus suddenly threw open the door with a wide grin on his face. It wasn't just any grin – it was the one he used when something good happened to him. I instinctively took a step back. "What's going on?" I demanded as Feliciano peeked inside.

"We have visitors!" Marcus boomed joyfully and I scowled at him, already aware of this fact. "Come in, boys. Why are you just standing there?" He moved aside and Feliciano darted inside.

"You were in my way!" I shouted at him and marched definitely inside. Mr. Kirkland and his husband were sitting on our couch. But two boys were seated between them. They looked familiar at the same time I knew I had no clue who they were. They looked similar but their personalities showed through enough that they looked completely different. One seemed rather uncomfortable – and I sarcastically thought, _I can't imagine why _– and the other seemed more confused than anything else. The perplexed one looked at me and I nearly shouted, "You're Alfred Anderson!" Instead, I settled on saying, "So Gilbert wasn't lying…" That wasn't very comforting, actually.

**Author's note: German:**

_Autsch_... – Ouch…

**Italian:**

_Bugiardo__! _– Liar!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or characters thereof.

Please review. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Alfred (April 4, Wednesday)**

I felt like my head was spinning but not in a sickening way. It was one of those rare occasions where I felt really and truly overwhelmed. When I opened my eyes Wednesday morning, I immediately closed them again as yesterday came flooding back. We'd gone to meet Officer Basch after getting DNA tests finished. I'd been hoping that we could go home and relax after that but instead we went to meet some apparent family friend – and his grandsons. Marcus was okay for being so energetic. It took several attempts from four different people before I understood that he was actually an "adopted" grandfather. This meant that he had been really close to the boys' parents – practically a father to their mother. When they'd gotten all the legal stuff finished, Marcus was supposed to be the one to take care of the boys should anything ever happen to them. That's why Lovino and Feliciano – the boys – were living with their "adopted" grandfather now that their parents had passed away.

It had been an interesting story and it kind of hit something inside me. It was some sort of chord that made me sympathize with Lovino and Feliciano at the same time that I suddenly felt extremely grateful for my own odd situation.

Lovino and Feliciano were interesting people too. I kind of liked Feliciano more than his brother because he was happier and more energetic. He seemed easier to talk to as well. Lovino sat on "his side of the room" the entire time and said very little. Arthur and Francis seemed used to it, as well as his family – though I figured that must have come with how long they'd lived with him. To me, he seemed like Matthew only more of a downer. I wasn't sure I could get along with him as well as I got along with my brother though.

Over all, the visit had been rather entertaining and definitely exhausting. It hadn't been until we'd been on our way home that evening that Arthur had explained why we'd even bothered to go over there. It was mostly Marcus's fault, from what I got. He'd wanted to meet us and to introduce us to his grandsons. But Arthur and Francis had also thought it might be a good idea to have us start meeting people so they didn't startle us when the story circulated. I was wary of this at the same time that I was very grateful for it.

It had been weird to go "home" that night and sit down at a dinner table where it wasn't hard to talk. I actually liked to sit there and talk to my parents whereas the Andersons had been boring and the moment I could, I would escape. Here, I hadn't wanted dinner to end because I'd been having so much fun talking to them and being able to goof off a little without getting scolded too bad. I'd learned that Arthur was rather nit-picky about manners but as long as I could display them – as in knew them – he didn't care so much if I disobeyed a few. Dinner last night had made me look forward to every family meal.

This morning, however, I didn't want to get out of bed. I knew there was other stuff we had to do today. There was more legal stuff where we had to go meet with Officer Basch for awhile along with seeing what we could do about school. I'd never thought that picking up on a life we'd been forced to abandon would be so hard. I rolled onto my side and pulled the covers over my head. Suddenly they were being yanked down and Matthew's face appeared in peripheral view. "Wake up, Alfred!" he hissed and I sat up, worried because of the tone in his voice.

"What's wrong?" I asked sleepily. I was also rather grumpy but I was trying to suppress it.

"I'm not sure anything is but..." He suddenly grinned that was a bit much for me. I almost tackled him. "Francis and Arthur are fighting. You should come listen." I made a face, debating whether or not it would be worth it to attack him. Sighing, I got up and followed him down the hall to the spiral stairs.

"Are you serious?" Arthur screamed, frightfully loud. "You couldn't have just... I don't know, not done that?" Francis replied in French, seeming to piss Arthur off more. "Don't start with that, just don't. It was one time and it was partially your fault it burned anyway."

"You just can't cook," Francis sniffed and there was a loud crashing sound after that. "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?"

Matthew snickered. "The cupboard..." Arthur replied darkly.

"I didn't see you move..." Francis admitted softly.

"You blinked," Arthur informed him. It was weird but for some reason, I thought of myself and poor Matthew when my time of the month came around. I glanced at Matthew and I could see this reflected in his eyes. Suddenly, this fight wasn't so funny anymore. I frowned. It was something I'd had to deal with since I was thirteen and I'd been too terrified to tell anyone but my brother. The Andersons had never understood why I'd be extra moody once _every _month. "Francis...I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

I blinked and looked down the stairs. "If I'm not bleeding then I'm sure I'm fine..." he responded but added something in French.

"Great," Arthur said with a slightly sarcastic tone in his voice. "Do the dishes." I was pretty sure that the next word Francis used was a cuss word.

"We should head downstairs, I think..." Matthew whispered and headed down the spiral staircase. I followed him but when he reached the last little bit of the stairs, I pushed him and he tumbled the rest of the way down. "What was that for?" he cried as he sat up stiffly.

I stared down at him and grinned. "Waking me up," I answered as Arthur and Francis wandered in from the hall. "Morning!" I greeted them brightly. They didn't seem to know how to react ― especially after Matthew got to his feet and launched himself at me in revenge for me pushing him down the stairs. We struggled for a minute but I did end up falling the rest of the way down the stairs next and landing heavily on my back. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" I screeched before he could think of anything else to do to me. He smiled and said good morning to Arthur and Francis who still hadn't moved.

"Are you...two okay?" Arthur finally managed to ask.

As I sat up, I rolled my shoulders and tested my neck. "Yup," I responded. "But it's not like I haven't fallen from farther..."

"Are you referring to that time you danced off the stage?" Matthew inquired as he helped me up. I nodded. "Yeah, that was bad. I'm still mad at your ex-partner for just standing there."

I shrugged. "I'll get her back someday."

"Something tells me this isn't out of the ordinary," Francis interjected, sounding amused. Arthur still looked somewhat concerned.

My smile vanished and I said, "Neither was that fight in the kitchen?" That made Arthur blush and Francis to not look so pleased. For a minute, we all just stood there staring at each other.

"I guess there's still a lot we have to learn about each other..." Arthur muttered, and I felt my previous defiance start to leave me. I wasn't up for fighting about much of anything at that moment. It just felt like the day was going to be about as long as yesterday. Something in my parents' faces said the exact same thing. "Well, let's go have breakfast and we'll see what the day is going to look like, okay?" he suggested, his voice pitching oddly to show how tired he really already was.

"Or we could have breakfast and take the day off," I suggested hopefully with a smile. Francis shook his head and I sighed, frowning. "I know."

"Let's just get it all over with in the next few days so we can have the weekend off." Francis proposed and we all wearily agreed. Two days off didn't sound so amazing when I remembered that it was only Wednesday. Still, I figured that in the end, it wasn't such a big deal. We'd only been here a day and a half anyway. Another day of sorting stuff out wasn't really all that bad.

~XxX~

**Arthur (April 4, Wednesday)**

The day dragged by and I was starting to get impatient. There was so much to do before we could settle down again and carry on with life. I was very thankful to Basch who seemed to have a lot of patience with the situation. I was thankful to Francis who put up with me when I got too stressed. I was thankful to Alfred and Matthew who were both sticking this out, even though they were both obviously sick of it all. I tried to keep this list in my head as I went about my day, but my hormones were making that extremely hard. I constantly felt close to a breakdown and I kept loosing my head around Francis. Even though the fight between my husband and I had attracted our sons' attention this morning, we hadn't gotten around to explaining anything. The thing that worried me now was the knowing look on Alfred's face that turned to an overwhelming despair every time I started fighting with Francis.

By the end of the day, I was frustrated. I felt like we couldn't get anywhere. We'd spent more time than anticipated at the police station and so we didn't bother to go to the school to register the boys. Instead, we decided to take the afternoon off ― despite what had earlier been said.

X x X

"Well, it _would _make sense," I heard Matthew say from the living room. The kitchen door was propped open again this afternoon. Francis, sipping at his cocoa, was sitting at the table; I stood at the counter and mixed sugar into my tea. But we were both listening now. The boys had wandered into the living room about a half hour ago and I'd thought they might have fallen asleep, they were so quiet. "You should ask him."

"I don't want to," Alfred replied in a rather sulky voice. "It's awkward. And what if I'm wrong?"

It was quiet a moment and then Matthew muttered, "Well, you can't be the only one." As if to change the subject, he said, "Besides that, Kim and David have probably realized that we're not coming back. You worried about that yet?"

I dropped my spoon in the sink and turned, leaning against the counter. "Sort of and, yet, not really. I don't think they'd do anything because they _must _know they might already be in trouble." Alfred sounded calmer than his brother.

"Maybe not…" Matthew replied softly. That bothered me a little ― that he was frightened by the idea that the Andersons might come back. "You know what I thought of the other day?"

"What?"

"I wonder why the Andersons came all the way to Kansas to kidnap two random kids."

"Maybe they lived somewhere around the community and they moved to Alabama to reduce the risk of getting caught."

"I guess that makes more sense…" For a moment, their silence suggested contentedness. Then Matthew said, "You're unhappy."

I tried to ignore the implications of that. But they weren't lost on me and so I just tried to control my expression while I waited to see if Alfred would respond to that. The seconds ticked by, fraying my already harassed nerves. Finally, Alfred replied in a strained voice, "Not really. I actually like it here a lot. Arthur and Francis are really nice and I think I could adjust to the town." I felt my chest loosen up and my breathing get easier. "I'm just a little confused, is all. There's been a lot to deal with the past few days."

"I know. I'm not so much confused as I am really overwhelmed," Matthew laughed. "When you dragged me along on this adventure, you never told me that this mess would be so complicated!"

"I didn't know!" Alfred replied and fell into a fit of laughter himself. I went to the kitchen door and kicked the wood wedge out of the way; the door swung quietly shut.

I went and sat at the table across from Francis. "Maybe it's a good thing we're taking the afternoon off after all," I muttered, wrapping both hands around my mug and sipping at my tea.

"The days don't ever seem long enough and, yet, they're always too long," Francis replied softly, staring absentmindedly over my head. "I can't wait until all this…" He paused, coming out of his trance so he could struggle to find a fitting word or phrase. "Restarting stuff is taken care of and we can try to settle down again." I nodded and we lapsed into a sort of silence that had me waiting for him to say something. "Do you think they'll adjust as well as Alfred thinks they will?"

Ever since they had shown up, it had been the question on my mind. But it ran deeper. I was afraid _none _of us would adjust. My biggest fear, however, lied in the results of the DNA tests. I didn't say anything to Francis but I knew it was all on his mind as well. "I don't know, but I hope so," I whispered.

X x X

That night was not good. The stress along with my hormones and exhaustion made it hard to keep my head. Francis took over dinner for me and I tried to catch up on grading. Alfred and Matthew had escaped to the basement where I'd showed them our entertainment system. But the students' work only proved to frustrate me and I hurt too much to sit there for too long. _The wonderful effects of being a hermaphrodite… _I thought sarcastically, shuffling to the kitchen for some pain relievers. Francis looked at me as I walked in but seemed to recognize the expression on my face and said nothing.

I wandered to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of painkillers. As I turned to get a glass, I noticed what was in the saucepan Francis was using. "What is _that_?" I inquired, pulling a face.

He sighed. "What does it look like?" he answered. On a normal day, I would have gotten upset and probably stormed off. However, today was _not _a normal day.

I sighed and tried to rationalize walking way. But I was _pissed_. "I know very well what it _looks _like! I asked you to tell me what it _was_!" I cried, slapping a hand onto the countertop. "You're constantly doing that – making it sound like I'm stupid. You have _no _respect for me."

Obviously Francis was overly stressed because he rolled his eyes. "Well, it shouldn't faze you as this is the way you've treated me our entire marriage. No respect, sarcastic responses, and always putting the blame on me. If you don't like it, maybe you should fix it."

I could have smacked him. But his words rang too true in my head. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and got some water before taking a few tablets of the painkiller. Then I turned to him and said, "I try hard not to be that way; you know that. I can't remember all the times we've fought over this. I'm sorry I can't always be perfect like _you_!" And _then_ I stormed off.

I didn't stop in the living room, where I'd been grading earlier, but instead went upstairs to my bedroom where I slammed the door. I knew how it would go; it was always the same when I was like this. Sometimes, I wished fervently that I could change who I was. Life seemed so much easier for those who didn't have added hormones. Frustrated, I went to my bedside table and grabbed the nearest book. I turned and threw it across the room, satisfied when it hit the door loudly. When I went to grab something else off the bedside table to throw, I caught sight of a picture. It was of Francis and I earlier in our marriage, looking proud as we held one-year-old Alfred and newborn Matthew. All my anger left me. I took the picture and sank down onto my bed.

The photo had gotten me through the last twelve years and every time I got upset with Francis, it had served as a reminder for how truly happy I was in my marriage. No man had ever frustrated me as much as my husband but I'd never found one I loved more. Reminded of this once again, I began to cry. I barely had any energy left. I dropped onto my bed and curled into fetal position, clutching the picture to my chest. Eventually, Francis came upstairs and we both apologized before we headed back downstairs. Before we even reached the door, however, I pulled him close to me and kissed him. As explanation for my random act – as this didn't follow our normal apologizing routine – I simply said, "I love you."

~XxX~

**Author's note: **So, at this point, you might be wondering what exactly is up with Arthur and Alfred. Or you feel like correcting me on my facts. Doesn't matter. All will be revealed later in the story if you can stick it out until then.

Also, I've been trying to be consistent with my updates but this will probably be the last of that. This is my last prewritten chapter and I'm working on the next. But it'll be slow because I'm also working on a story with my friend, **Feliciano Luigina Holmes**. So that's taking up some time as well. Hopefully I can keep them a week, maybe two, apart but I'm just warning you now.

Thanks so much to anyone who is reading this or reviewing this; has put this story on their alert or favorite's list. It means a lot and I appreciate it. I hope this story won't disappoint you.

Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

**Francis (****April 7, Friday)**

I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the closed door that led to the living room. But my focus was not there. It was years before this date, late at night when Alfred was only one years old. He was sick, had been running a fever all day. Arthur and I were finally at loss as to what to do for him. He was crying and Arthur was pacing the living room, rocking our child back and forth in his arms. I sat on the couch, watching them with worry. What could I do except wait the night out, hoping the fever would break? Arthur turned to me helplessly and I reached my arms out. Dutifully, he passed Alfred to me and, after unbuttoning the first two buttons on his onesie, held him to my chest and he stopped crying. Arthur sat down next to me, leaned his head on my shoulder, and rested one hand on his slightly enlarged abdomen. It was one of the first times we were sure we could make it through life so long as we were together.

Staring at the kitchen door, I recognized how that one night had set the course for our lives now. "Twelve years," I muttered into my hand. Had Arthur and I not been so sure of our relationship, it would have ended five years after our kids had vanished. His hormones, our stubbornness, my flirtatious behavior... No one had thought we'd last so long. Yet here we were, not only still together and madly in love, but also with our kids again. Our kids that we were now sure were ours. I had no more doubt in this. I was relieved and terrified at once. I felt I had to make up for lost time, yet they didn't seem to expect it. Years hardly made a difference for parents. You feel as though there's a certain sequence to follow and even though that sequence was broken, you still try to use it.

"Francis!" Arthur called from the living room. I blinked, trying to wake from my haze. He burst into the kitchen as I stood. "Why aren't you in bed?" He looked upset. But something in my expression made his soften. "Francis?" He slowly wandered over and I wrapped my arms around him. He snaked his around my waist.

Gently, I ran a hand through his hair. "I love you, _chèrie_... Let's go to bed."

X x X

"Ouch! H-how did you...?"

"I don't know!"

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Get out!"

I blinked myself awake and looked at the time. Even for a weekday, it was way too early to be up. "Okay; no wait! I lied! I need you!" I heard Matthew's frantic voice from downstairs. For a moment, I was confused. It seemed that every day this week, I'd woken puzzled.

"What're they _doing_?" Arthur's groggy voice questioned from beside me. And then I remembered. I rolled over and draped an arm over his bare chest.

He looked at me, his expression torn between irritation and adoration. "Sounds like breakfast," I mumbled with a light chuckle.

He smacked my shoulder with a roll of his eyes and a smile on his lips. Then he paused and sighed as Alfred let loose several loud curses. "It does," he muttered in defeat. Then he shifted so he was on his side and cuddled into me. "Well, if they're fending for themselves, then that means we have an extra five minutes..."

I kissed the top of Arthur's head and nuzzled my face in his hair. He made a light purring sound. I brushed my fingertips down his spine and smiled when he arched into me a little. A loud crash had us untangled from each other and the blankets. In moments, we were on our feet, pulling shirts on and hurrying downstairs. "Who died?" I asked as I pushed open the kitchen door.

Alfred was the disaster, standing by the fridge. He was coated in flour and sopping wet; the sprayer was in Matthew's hand. The attacker was the one who looked pissed while Alfred simply looked surprised. Matthew glanced at us and sighed, "Breakfast died..." The back door was open and the last bit of smoke was exiting through there.

Arthur burst out laughing. I was torn between being horrified at the tragedy my kitchen had become and amused by the situation. I wondered vaguely what Alfred had done. When Arthur had finally calmed down, I sighed and stepped out of the doorway. "Go get cleaned up, Alfred. And, Matthew, put the sprayer down…" Alfred slumped out of the kitchen and Matthew reluctantly put his weapon back in the sink. "Now, what on _Earth _did he do to deserve that?" I asked curiously.

Matthew pointed at the stove. "He burned my food. And cursed at me…" He paused and then added, "I'll clean up the kitchen. We generally fight like this in the morning. Alfred can't cook!"

I glanced at Arthur and he punched my arm, making me flinch a little. "You can't inherit cooking skills, frog!" he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. I chuckled at his reaction. "I'll help you clean up, Matthew. And then Francis can cook for us…"

I made a face at being volunteered but then smiled brightly. "As long as it's clean before five-thirty," I sang and left the kitchen as the two started scrambling to put it back together in time.

~XxX~

**Matthew (April 7, Friday)**

It was rainy when we were all ready to head out to school. We'd left with Arthur at six and arrived at the school about fifteen minutes later. Arthur all but commanded us to wander around to find our classrooms while he set to work on some paperwork he had neglected to pick up over the week. I felt bad when I realized how much time he'd really taken off just for me and Alfred. So, set loose, we began our trek around the school. It was two stories and reminded me somewhat of a college campus. There were different halls for different subjects – like the English hall and the math hall. And then we found the auditorium.

A few kids were already tucked away inside, talking and laughing. But it was the two couples on stage that caught both mine and Alfred's attention. They were both dancing the cha-cha. There were two boys, looking like they were carrying on some sort of casual conversation as they did so. But their footwork was absolutely amazing and I was entranced by it. The other couple, a girl and a boy, had their expressions a little more focused on the dance. I enjoyed watching them as well but it looked like they had to think more to carry out their dance.

One of the two boys dancing together was tall with messy brown hair and a silly grin on his face. He looked as though he shouldn't be able to dance that well but was extremely graceful and fluent as he led his partner around the stage. His partner was a few inches shorter than him with darker brown hair and a slightly irritated look. I recognized him immediately as Lovino Vargas. He twisted and fell back and the slightest nudge from his partner, as though they'd danced their cha-cha routine enough times that they'd memorized every step without needing a reminder. I was enthralled by their routine and found myself wishing I were on the stage, dancing my heart out.

"You found our hide-out," someone announced from behind us as he slapped his hands onto our shoulders. Both couples on stage stopped to look at us and everyone in the "audience" turned around. He didn't sound upset but the instant people started staring, I was petrified.

Alfred – my stupid, brave, obnoxious, wonderful brother – turned and looked behind us. Following his example, I forced myself to do the same. A tall young man with a huge grin that instantly disappeared when he saw us standing there was behind us. He had short, wild blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He didn't seem extremely intimidating but he definitely wasn't Feliciano friendly. Still, my brother brought forth one of his best grins and said, "We didn't realize you were hiding. Sorry; we're new to the school and were told to wander. So we did!"

"_Ehi_!" I picked out Lovino's voice as the one who had shouted. "It's you two! You're _actually _going to school here?" I looked back at him to see that he'd hopped off the stage – leaving his partner looking dazed – and was marching toward us. Feliciano was out of his seat in ten seconds flat, running toward us with the same cries but in a more cheerful tone. All I wanted was to turn and run.

"Yeah!" Alfred replied enthusiastically, though he seemed as confused as I was about Lovino's reaction. "Good to see a familiar face or two." Feliciano stopped in front of us but was looking behind us.

"Mathias, be nice!" he half-scolded, half-teased. Then he actually looked at us. "Glad you found us; we thought we'd have to come looking for you!" He giggled at the idea as Lovino walked up, a smug smirk on his face as though he was amused by the idea as well. "Mathias, this is Alfred –" he pointed at my brother "—and Matthew!"

"Really?" the boy behind us drawled, removing his hands from our shoulders at last. I felt like I could breathe a little better. He stepped out in front of Feliciano and Lovino and stared critically at us. "The Anderson boys?"

Alfred made a face and I sighed. "We're changing our last name," I declared and he glanced over his shoulder as someone began to laugh annoyingly. "But, yes. That's us. How do you even know about us all the way out here?"

"You're famous," Lovino huffed and pushed past Mathias irritably. "You were on one of the few teams that keep making regionals and have even made nationals. And everyone knows that you two are the main reason they got there." He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at us with one eyebrow raised, as if daring us to try and challenge what he thought he knew.

I frowned, a little perplexed. "Well, not really but if you say so. We probably just practiced hardest, I think." Alfred agreed hurriedly with a proud smile on his face. "But we couldn't singlehandedly get them there, you know. That's pretty much impossible with the judges. Hey, are you on the ballroom team here?"

My question was directed at Lovino but it was Feliciano who answered, "We both are! Mathias isn't – he's just one of our friends that comes to watch us." He took my hand and dragged me into the auditorium. "You should come hang out with us. How long have you been here?"

"This morning? Since around six or so," I replied, startled. I didn't resist as he dragged me over to his group of friends, all clustered near the front middle of the auditorium seats. I picked Gilbert out of the crowd and was kind of surprised to see him there. I hadn't thought Feliciano would be friends with someone like him but then again, I didn't know either of them very well.

The other three on the stage climbed down and ran up to us. "_Oi_, Feliciano!" the boy Lovino had been dancing with called as he neared. I stood awkwardly before the group of kids as he turned to see what the boy wanted. "Who are these two?"

Lovino wandered up to him, letting go of Alfred's wrist and said, "Alfred and Matthew. The ones Gilbert was talking about the other day, remember?" He seemed much calmer in his partner's presence and I couldn't help but wonder if their partnership went beyond dancing. "I have a question, though. You're Mr. Kirkland's kids so you guys were really kidnapped?"

There was that pause where everyone was dead silent, waiting to hear our answer and where my mind went reeling. Arthur and Francis _had _said our story was pretty known around the town but I hadn't really thought the kids would know. I'd been expecting having to talk to adults, tell them that it was interesting to be back in a place I didn't ever remember being. What was I supposed to say to these kids who had apparently listened really well to their parents? Luckily, I didn't have to. My brother jumped in and casually said, "Yeah, we were – not that we remember it or anything so don't bother asking. We've lived a pretty boring life."

"Oh," Lovino muttered, sounding disappointed. But I was grateful that he didn't push the topic. "Well, okay then. Let me introduce you to everyone." He pointed to his partner who looked extremely surprised. "_My_ boyfriend, Antonio. " I tried to look like I hadn't already guessed this. Then he pointed at a blonde boy, his hair slicked back and his bright blue eyes focused. He was standing somewhat near Feliciano but looked like he'd just stood up and was now caught doing something he would rather not be. "That's my brother's boyfriend, Ludwig." Lovino said his name as if it were a dirty word but continued before Feliciano could get anything else but a, "_Ve_~! Lovino!" out.

He went through the audience, pointing at people and calling out names. "Lukas; Natalia; Ivan; Heracles; Feliks and his boyfriend, Taurys; Xiao Mei; Im Yong Soo; Honda Kiku; and Gilbert, Ludwig's older brother..." Some looked over at us or waved in acknowledgement but some didn't and I struggled to match names to faces. "Got it?" Lovino barked when he was finished.

Alfred grinned easily. "Yup!"

"Sure," I muttered, wondering how I'd ever remember them all. The bell rang suddenly and obnoxiously loud.

People started gathering their things, and standing, filing out. But one stopped in front of me. He was extremely tall with sandy blonde hair and soft lavender eyes that hinted at secret danger. He was intimidating but I wasn't scared – the reason for that was mostly in his smile. "You'll catch on soon enough. My name is Ivan," he said with a heavy Russian accent, his smile never faltering.

I grinned up at him. "Not soon but, yes, I'm sure I will. Thank-you." He nodded and then wandered out of the auditorium.

Alfred came up behind me and put one arm over my shoulders. "Want some help finding your first class? You look a bit dazed there, Mattie!"

"Come off it!" I snapped, ducking out of his arm and heading out. "You have your own class to find, Alfred!" He laughed as I left, wandering the halls and trying to remember where I'd found my first class earlier that morning. But as I did, I knew I was blushing.

X x X

Later that day, after dinner, Alfred and I excused ourselves from the table and hurried downstairs. Alfred threw himself onto the couch and I sat on the floor, looking up at him. We'd hung out with the ballroom team and their friends at lunch after an invitation from Feliciano and watched more people dance. It had made me ache even more for the stage but I was elated that Alfred and I seemed to be making friends. "Did you see them dance?" Alfred asked, eyes shining as he looked at me.

I grinned. "Which ones? Lovino and Antonio stand as my favorites." I crossed my legs and placed my hands on my knees, leaning forward. "They were amazing. No one on our team could dance like them!"

He shook his head. "No, no; Feliks and Taurys! I never thought they'd be able to dance like that!" It was true. Jittery little Taurys and loudmouth Feliks made an interesting pair, both on and off stage. It seemed as though they were polar opposites but worked so well together in every aspect. Dancing, it was like their differences disappeared and nothing else was there besides their feet, each other, the music, and the chemistry. They were intense, dancing the samba together.

"They _were_ amazing," I agreed, voice a bit more wistful than I'd meant for it to sound. "I miss dancing."

Alfred sighed with a nod and then looked at the stereo system with a devious smile. "Hey, why _don't _ we dance? They must have _something _we can dance to..." Then he jumped up and sprinted to where Arthur had shown him the CDs. He flipped through them, finally producing one after a minute or so. "Think we could dance to track three?" He tossed me the case and I flipped it over to look.

"Maybe. Let's hear it." I tossed it back and he put the CD into the stereo system, flipping to track three. We listened to it and then he started it over. "Jitterbug it is!" I stood up and he cranked the music, pushing play. He stepped over to me and we got into the appropriate dance position. Grinning, we began to enthusiastically dance the jitterbug together, swinging and laughing our hearts' content. But my heart wasn't content. It longed to be onstage again. This time, with a partner who had enough passion to match mine when we danced, spun, _lived_.

~XxX~

**Alfred (Monday, April 10)**

_I was momentarily blinded by the spotlight as if fell on me and my faceless partner. I was stage-left and he was stage-right. The music started and my feet slid across the polished ground below me; I drifted smoothly into his arms. For a moment, he just held me and we swayed. Then the back lights hit; he pushed me away and we fell into a perfect West Coast Swing. I was yanked across the stage and I dragged my partner along and I felt so lost in our moment. _Then I woke up. The sun was shining brilliantly into my eyes, birds were singing obnoxiously, and I had killer cramps. I rolled onto my side and hugged my abdomen desperately. "Oh, it _hurts_!" I whined, squeezing my eyes shut again. Arthur knocked on my door, a little enthusiastically so I answered, "Yeah?"

"Come downstairs, please. Francis has something to tell us," Arthur called happily and I heard him go to Matthew's room. My eyes snapped open and my heart pounded faster. _The DNA test results? _I wondered. Were we finally going to get our answers? I got up hurriedly, searching a bag I'd hidden in my closet for a pad. When I finally found one, I sprinted to the bathroom and groaned when I discovered that I was right – I'd started. Muttering to myself about how life wasn't fair, I finished up in the bathroom and slouched downstairs.

Matthew met me at the bottom of the stairs with a rather happy smile on his face. "Aw, don't look so glum. It's not _that _early! Only five in the morning!" I almost punched him, as I wasn't amused with his comment.

"Shut-up, Matthew. I'm not really in the mood for rainbows and smiles right now," I snapped and wandered toward the living room. He sighed and huffed about how it must be that time of the month again. I growled and glared over my shoulder. Frowning, he apologized and hurried after me. Francis and Arthur were already sitting in the living room; Francis looked absolutely radiant and it calmed me down a little, for some odd reason or other.

They looked up when we walked in and Arthur grinned at us. "Sit down?" Without question, we did as suggested. I felt my hands start to quiver a little – I was so nervous. Was it good or bad news? Would Matthew and I have to go back to the Andersons if the DNA results said we weren't related? Would we have to go back and try to start yet again? Arthur looked happily at Francis who stood up, obviously elated to be able to start playing a father figure again.

"I got a call about the DNA test results last night," he started and I felt like my heart would beat right out of my chest. He looked at us a moment and then, amazingly enough, his grin got wider. "You're ours. You're our _petits garçons._" For a moment, I lost all senses and just sat there. Then it all came back in a rush. My nerves started tingling up from my toes to my head and my eyes widened and my heart picked up a quick but soft pace. And I grinned. Matthew was already on his feet, asking excitedly, "Really? You sure you heard right?" For every which way Matthew made it sound like he could have misheard, Francis just nodded and said he was sure. I looked at Arthur excitedly and then my heart plummeted. So it was real. I looked down at my knees, suddenly sick to my stomach. Then I was on my feet and out of the room in less than a minute, standing on the front porch gasping for breath as the sting of tears hit my senses. It was real and there was no escaping it. I wasn't alone but that meant I was more trapped than before.

"Hermaphrodite?" I tested carefully, quietly. It sounded funny. I didn't like it. I wanted to deny it. But looking guiltily over my shoulder at the front door, there was no possible way to deny it. Arthur was my mom. And thrown into my head at that instant was an accusation, bitter and sour. It was his fault I was this way and it was his fault he'd never been around to tell me how to handle it. It was his fault I felt trapped by myself even more than before. My head was a confusing mess after that and I sat down to try and think it all through. I was happy. I was angry. I was betrayed. I was accepted. And they all clashed.

The door clicked shut and someone crouched behind me, wrapping their arms around my neck. "I told you: you should have asked," Matthew whispered, resting his chin on my shoulder. The tears spilled over and neither of us said a word as we stared out at the yard. For several minutes, he let me cry and then he sighed. "They're worried and I had no explanation. We should go back in."

I nodded weakly, drying my eyes, and we stood up. "I guess this is it then." He looked at me curiously, pausing in opening the front door. "This is our new life." He smiled and walked inside; I followed after, a little more hesitantly but I knew that once I let that door shut, I was going to keep walking. I'd come here for a reason and now I was certain I'd been right after all. I had to face my choice and the answer I'd received. I glanced over my shoulder as I closed the door and then smiled, deciding that everything else in my head could wait to be addressed. Right now, everyone should be happy. I wouldn't bring them down.

~XxX~

**Author's note: **Well...I hope I vaguely answered some questions here. And now the family knows what the answer is! I might be skipping around a little but hopefully not too much as I dislike having to write out people getting to know each other and that's what Alfred and Matthew have to do with their new friends. But I won't skip too much because there are some important things that have to be addressed while they're getting to know each other.

Um, any other warnings... The direction of the story changes ever so slightly after this. The focus of this will continue to be the family and getting used to being that way again but it will become more directed to the ballroom portion. This will actually be relevant to the family and you'll get to see why when Alfred has his first dance with his new partner. ;D Spoiler?

Other than that, the translations:

French:

_chèrie_–dear

_petits garçons _– little boys

Italian:

_Ehi _– Hey

Thanks so much for taking the time for this story! Hope it's still satisfactory! Please review! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Ivan (Monday, April 10)**

I didn't dance. Not anymore. But I loved to watch my friends dance. They all danced with passion and care ― things I didn't have so much anymore. I had danced a lot when I was younger, as my father wanted me to. I loved ballroom but it always felt like something was missing, no matter how good I got. In junior high school, I got better as I was accepted onto the high school's junior varsity team. Again, I loved the dances but something was always gone. It all felt too routine. But my older sister, Katyusha, had left our house before I'd gotten into junior high and my father was angrier. I saw it more or less as a way to escape my broken home after that. My first year in high school, my sister got her own place and fought tooth and nail for my little sister, Natalia, and I to come live with her. When she won, I gave up ballroom and gave up any escape I'd thought I'd needed.

While I still had some of my old, childish, self in me, the hardest part of each day was looking in the mirror. To see my weary expression and to try and bring that normal smile back that never looked normal anymore. Katyusha was on medication to keep herself from caving in. Sometimes I wished I could do the same. But we didn't have the money so I learned to just step away from myself more often than not. It was easier than trying to deal with the chaos in my heads that came from being abused so often by our father.

But then, one day at school, I met Matthew Bonnefoy. He looked up at me with bright blue eyes and I felt myself slam back into my head, into the craziness of myself. For one wild moment, I was lost. And then his eyes brought me back. Everything was a sharp focus, chaos raging around this one safe bubble. I smiled at him and it didn't seem so forced. All weekend, I thought about him. It had been one meeting and I wondered if this wasn't just some silly crush.

Today, Feliks and Taurys were dancing on stage. Matthew was sitting close to the stage with his brother, Alfred, watching their feet. For the first time since I'd started ballroom, I longed to be on the stage one more time.

~XxX~

**Arthur (****Monday, April 10)**

The hardest part of working again was that all the kids knew who I was, knew my story. With the rumor that my boys were home, the kids in all of my classes were restless for the first few days - more so when they found out they were in the same school. Focus was already hard to come by so I disliked rumors because they diminished all focus. I sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day and leaned against my desk, staring at a group who was babbling. It didn't help that we were close to summer, either. It meant the kids' attention was anywhere but on my lesson. I liked my subject so I tried to convey that to the kids. But my patience was wearing thin. "You can do the worksheet or do book work," I announced finally, standing straight again. Eyes looked back at me and then down at their papers.

I wandered around for another five minutes, making sure that's what they were really doing, before sitting at my desk. Papers had started to pile up because I hadn't picked any up while I had taken my week off. I sorted them and shuffled through them, quickly correcting some of the older stuff. I was going to miss midterms if I wasn't careful. I seemed that I would be taking work home and staying up much later than I wished to. But there were students who I could tell needed an accurate grade or they'd be failing by the end of the term so it was time to set aside most of my time to get this done by Wednesday. Pausing, I looked up at the board where I'd written an assignment and got up. I really didn't take kindly to the idea that most of my weekend would be wasted by correcting assignments for after midterm.

"I'm changing the date of this assignment to Tuesday," I announced, getting up and walking to the board. I erased it and rewrote the date as kids sighed in relief or let out small thank-you's. I rolled my eyes and said, "You're welcome but that means you have more time and so I expect it to get done." Eager to not have the date changed back, everyone agreed. So I turned and went back to my desk to work on all the papers that needed correcting, needed to be put into the computer.

X x X

"I have to stay late this week but Francis said he might be able to get off early every day so you can always ask him for a ride," I told Alfred and Matthew, both of whom had slipped in during their lunch for a quick visit before I had to get back to my class. "Or I know some kids in the neighborhood you can search out and they can show you the bus."

Matthew looked at Alfred who thought about it for a minute. "Well, we might as well ride the bus. I don't want to bug him. Hey, did they get our transcripts here or are we going to have to start over? I was a little unclear..."

"Oh, they got your transcripts. But you missed a week or two of school so your grades won't be as high this term. You'll have to get that back next term, if possible," I replied simply. I tried to convey that their grades were important ― as I was a teacher ― but at the same time, I didn't want to push it and think they had an obligation because of that. Unfortunately, I could tell that Alfred had already taken it wrong.

"We'll work hard to make up for it," Matthew was quick to say. "Can you tell us who we're looking for? Would Lovino and Feliciano be able to tell us where to go?"

I nodded, glancing at my classroom as it started to fill. "I was thinking also that Gilbert might be able to show you and certainly Antonio would be willing. But Feliciano would probably be your best bet if you can find him, yes." I smiled at them and Alfred grinned, thanking me. "I'll see you guys when I get home then?"

"Yeah," Alfred agreed happily, his earlier irritation I'd sensed seeming to be gone. "See ya!"

Quieter, Matthew added, "Have a good rest of the day." And then they both left my classroom to enjoy the rest of their lunch. I sat back in my chair and stared at the paperwork, wishing more than anything that it would all disappear. I was glad I'd decided against becoming an English teacher ― all that paperwork would be more than I could handle. Sighing, I went back to correcting a few more papers and inserting the scores into the computer before the bell rang and I had to get up for my lecture.

~XxX~

**Alfred (****Thursday, April 13)**

I leaned back in my seat, resting my feet on the seats in front of me. It was another lunch period being wasted away watching the ballroom team dance. I found it becoming a sort of ritual already. My friends and I played a sort of version of musical chairs each day when we got in here so I was almost always sitting next to someone else. Today, I was sitting by Gilbert. Gilbert the awesome Beilschmidt, he'd told me. I didn't find him very annoying like some of my other friends obviously did but his arrogance was different from my own. I'd decided when I was much younger that I was a hero and I'd constantly name things that went with being a hero ― benefits and sacrifices, no matter how petty they were. He didn't do that. He pretty much declared that the world loved him and if you tried to say otherwise, his eyes screamed of a dangerous anger.

So I sat casually next to him, too eager to continue to make friends to get up and move. I kept stealing quick glances next to me. Gilbert was reclined back in his chair, hands behind his head and ankles crossed on the chair in front of him. He looked so casual but oh so cocky. "So, where did you come out of hiding from?" Gilbert asked, eyes locked on the stage ― or so I thought because that's what it seemed every time I glanced at him.

"I was hiding out in Alabama," I joked back, grinning. "It was a pretty place. There were more trees than out here." I paused, watching the dancers on stage spin and come back together. "There's nothing to look at out here."

Gilbert over-exaggerated his flinch. "Not even the awesome me is good enough to stare at?" I turned my head toward him, made a show of looking him over. He stretched a little, obviously showing off.

"Well, maybe if I stared long enough, I might find something to stare at. But my mama always told me it was rude to stare." Smirking, I looked back at the stage. He uncrossed his ankles and kicked my legs of the seat in front of me. "Hey!" He laughed. It was an odd sound, not one that I didn't entirely dislike. I tried to frown but I couldn't quite make myself. "So, I'm stuck at school unless someone can show me where the bus is." Matthew and I had tried to find Lovino or Feliciano on Monday but we hadn't succeeded. Francis had come home early every other day so we hadn't had to worry about the bus. He couldn't get out before five today though.

"Really? Thought it's high time to start acting like a civilian?" he teased but that kind of bugged me. I knew he wasn't teasing me about ballroom, instead about the attention I'd been receiving by people because of Matthew's and my reappearance in town. While I liked people staring, I liked it because _I _did something ― not because of my story. "Well, the awesome me can surely show the less awesome you our bus."

I huffed and then grinned. "A pity I don't land on your level." I put my feet back up, making sure one was rather close to his.

Gilbert glanced at our feet, keeping his grin plastered to his face. "People often envy me."

"And why shouldn't they?" I inquired, knowing I was trying a little too hard at flirting. But to be fair, he'd started it. The bell rung and I stood, kicking his feet of the seat. "You're something to look at in this wasteland." Swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I headed to the end of the row. "Matt and I will be out front after the final bell." He stared at me, for once looking rather deflated with his crimson eyes wide.

But he quickly recovered, grinning arrogantly again. "Awesome." I left the auditorium after that, feeling foggy. I had a new friend but maybe I'd pushed things wrong today. I didn't want a boyfriend because it meant I'd be tied down. I didn't want to be attached to this town ― or to anywhere. I'd thought about it a bit in Alabama where the trees were too confining and the neighbors were too private. Here, things were loud and too widespread and everyone was in each other's business. I wondered if there was any balance anywhere I went. Somehow, my freedom felt a little too suppressed in places like this. I wanted to leave and go far away, but never stop in one place for too long.

X x X

The bus was crowded with kids ― and incredibly loud. I decided I needed to make a point of asking Arthur if Matthew and I could go back to using my car. I missed it. With all the seats filling up, I was stuck next to Gilbert and Matthew was a few rows back, sitting with Ivan. I didn't like Ivan too much, something about him bothered me, so I kept glancing behind me to make sure my brother was all right. It seemed like the last three minutes before we left took forever. "Claustrophobic?"

I shrugged. "I miss my pretty car. It's sitting at home, being neglected."

"You own a car?" Gilbert asked, both surprise and jealousy present in his voice. "What's the name?"

I smiled a little in satisfaction. "I was a bit spoiled. It's a Mitsubishi 2010 Lancer. It's my baby."

He laughed. "Ah, no way. If I could get my hands on a car, I'd go for an awesome 2012 Ford Fusion. That's the kind of car you should have begged for."

I scoffed. "Nothing more American than a Ford?"

"And what would that make Mitsubishi?" Gilbert inquired instantly and I frowned. I wasn't used to conversations like this ― where things were so smooth and I didn't have to try so hard. "I guess it is kind of stereotypical. But I was born in Prussia and raised with German so at least I'm not on my knees asking for a Volkswagen." I laughed at that. "So will I get a ride then?"

Unfortunately, my hormones kicked up and I blushed at his wording. "We'll have to see if my mom will let me start driving to and from school again. It would mean more time to sleep in and some time to just chill after school."

He nodded as the bus headed out. "So is it good to be back or do you just not care?" His expression was still light and he didn't look like he cared what the answer was. But my problem was, I could see past it. Maybe my brother's skills of reading people had finally worn off on me but it looked like he really did care what I had to say. It made my insides squirm and a slight heat to rise to my face. Plenty of people had asked me similar questions since I'd arrived but I hadn't felt they'd truly cared what my answer was ― they seemed to expect something generic.

I looked out the windshield. "I care but I don't remember being here so I can't say it's good to be back either. It's sort of like... Waking up one day and realizing everything you thought wasn't right. Now I have to start over. It's kind of hard but it's been fun so I'm not too put out yet." That was a half-truth. It was fun when I didn't think too hard and just focused on school and making friends. Being home was a challenge. Francis and Arthur were good people but I felt out of place. Before Matthew and I had gotten back, I had felt I had a place. Except, that rug had been yanked from under me and I didn't have much of anything but what I was learning left. A generic answer to that that I kept getting was to "hold on to what you learned before". Tossed into confusion, it was much easier said than done.

"I think it sounds like a pain," Gilbert surprised me by saying. "Being raised one way and then figuring out that you were basically wrong." He ran a hand through his hair and then grinned. "But to less depressing topics, what's your favorite sport?" We chatted like that until my stop ― one before his. "_Auf Wiedersehen_," he muttered as I stood.

I grinned at him. "See ya!" I wasn't sure but as I walked off the bus, I was starting to think that I had something to look forward to each day now - instead of looking at is "what's going to happen next?"

**Author's Note: **Gilbert only spoke one German word. o.O I will fix that in other chapters...

_Auf Wiedersehen _― Goodbye

Hopefully things will get easier to write from here on out and I haven't disappointed anyone with this...short...chapter. Thanks to those who have viewed this, read it, reviewed it, put it on their favorites or alerts lists... It means a lot! :D

Please review if you feel so inclined.


	8. Chapter 8

**Matthew (April 21, Friday)**

It was an awkward silence. The one where you knew something had to be said but you didn't know how to say it. Except, it wasn't me nor was it Alfred who had to say anything. It was the two men in front of us. Our aunt and uncle. I didn't know what to think. They were an odd pair. Both were blonde but one had bright violet eyes and the other had stern blue eyes. One was ridiculously tall and the other about Alfred's height. They were Aunt Tino and Uncle Berwald.

Tino was the first to speak, a bright smile on his face. "It's really good to see you again..." His voice wasn't as soft as I'd expected but instead a comforting, purely him voice. I knew that if I had heard it five years ago in the supermarket, I would have recognized him just from his voice immediately. "You don't know how much it means to see you both alive and well again. After so many years, who could have guessed what had happened?"

Alfred smiled. "We sure didn't. Not for a long time. It's weird, huh?" He laughed the way he always did when he wasn't sure if he'd said the right thing and didn't want another awkward silence.

"It's very odd..." Tino admitted and Berwald nodded. He hesitated then, seeming not sure whether or not he wanted to say what was on the tip of his tongue. "It's odd that we – along with your parents – have to get to know you all over again. It's not something we ever imagined having to do." I nodded, knowing that very well. It was something that no child should have to ever do. But I didn't say any of this. Instead, Tino continued to talk, telling us all about how much they'd worried about us and how much hope they'd had had to muster when so much time had passed.

It was the same basic thing I'd heard from Francis and Arthur but it seemed so different coming from my aunt's mouth with Berwald nodding and looking away every once in awhile. It was odd to think that more than just our parents had been affected by our disappearance. I realized that, of course, the rest of our family must have been worried.

I felt so small here, knowing now that there were more people Alfred and I would have to meet who would be so happy to see us. I was a lucky child. One who could have easily been killed but instead was raised by a couple that wasn't related to me at all. How was this fair? I was struggling to fall back into the normality of life, to figure out who I was. I had had several years ripped from under my feet and now I had to steady myself before I was pushed out the door into the adult world. I felt sick.

That night, memories flashed in and out of my half-conscious mind as I fell asleep. Some were good, some were bad, some were day-dreams I'd had to pass away the time. But all of them reminded me that I had left something familiar behind to live in something new.

**Alfred (April 24, Monday)**

There was a different atmosphere in the school as Matthew and I walked in that morning. I listened to all the chatter but it sounded the same as every other day. We wandered into the auditorium and found the source of the change. The entire ballroom team was spread out on stage and in the seats near the stage, looking frustrated and put out. Their friends who weren't on the team sat in the back, quietly seeming to wait for some sort of signal that they could start talking again. I glanced at my brother before walking over to Mathias. "What's going on?" I inquired when he'd looked up at me.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "They're all brooding over the fact that they lost about four members who kept goofing off during the practices and everything. The teacher apparently got pretty fed up over it and cut them. Except, the team has that dance concert here at the school coming up and they're missing those guys."

I glanced back at the stage, imagining their frustration. I didn't understand why the instructor had decided to cut them that soon to a concert. That wasn't fair to the rest of the team. I sat down on one of the chairs near the isle and thought about their dilemma. They needed replacements and fast. But how were they supposed to get them without holding auditions that would probably take too long? Unfortunately, I knew the answer before the rest of the team did. I knew how they could get the extra members and I knew they would ask. Luckily, I knew I had one escape: I had no partner.

Feeling triumphant as the bell rang, I kind of forgot about the team's problems and instead was focusing on how I'd gotten out of my own. That is, until Feliciano caught me and Matthew with an overly-hopeful expression on his face. "Ve, Alfred, Matthew! I have an idea!" he declared happily, much to the dismay of his brother who yelled from the stage that it wasn't all Feliciano's idea.

"What's your idea?" Matthew asked timidly. I wondered if he had any idea what was coming.

The brunette beamed and clasped his hands together against his chest. "You two can join our team!" he cried happily.

Matthew looked startled so I took over. "Hey, that's a great idea except we don't have partners so you're still out two," I reminded him, to which he assumed a rather confused expression. "Sorry. Until I get a partner, I can't help." I picked up my backpack and fled the auditorium. I had reason to my madness and it was quite simple to me. I was getting into a new life and trying to create that. It was coincidental that most of my new friends were on the ballroom team but I didn't mind that so much. It was the idea of putting myself into a similar pattern from my old life that I didn't like. Ballroom was off my list of things I could do. Maybe I'd look into track or something along those lines.

* * *

><p>At lunch, I felt a little guilty of how casual and rude my response to Feliciano had been that morning. It had had time to soak and my friends looked more depressed than ever before. Feliciano and Mathias tried to cheer them up but they seemed to be the only cheerful ones there. Even Feliks had nothing more to say than, "This, like, totally sucks big time..." I sat down in my usual seat between Gilbert and Heracles but didn't feel like eating anymore. I had no ideas and no way to help them so I didn't know why I was letting it get to me so bad.<p>

After several minutes of muttering and overall gloom, Antonio suddenly perked up and looked between me and Matthew. "Why don't you two find partners? That would be easier for you and we can get the members we need!"

Taurys smiled and added, "It would only need to be until after the concert and then we can look for more permanent members. The concert is in two weeks and we don't have time..."

It was tempting but I still had nowhere to look. Just because my friends hung out with the ballroom team didn't mean they could dance. I just shrugged, for once lacking any answer. Matthew seemed to take it more seriously than I did however. He stared at his tray, pushing food around as he thought. "If I can find a partner by Wednesday, I will join until after the concert," he finally decided and at least half the table cheered in relief.

I wanted to so badly because I missed dancing already. But I didn't want to because I was trying to make my new life and if I went back to dancing, I wouldn't be able to give it up again. I didn't know what to do so I let my indecisiveness hang in the air while everyone else chattered about Matthew's decision on the matter.

**Gilbert (April 25, Tuesday)**

The lack of members for the ballroom team gave me a wonderful inspiration that I thought was pure gold. I wasn't often struck with such convenient moments and I wasn't going to let it just pass by me as if I hadn't seen it. The idea was awesome and I won't deny it that. Matthew was already looking for a partner and I was pretty sure he'd easily find one just within our "non-dancing" part of the group. That left Alfred. I was getting used to our random conversations on our way home from school every day and stupid arguments over nothing at lunch. But instead of getting put off by all this, I would wake up each morning with an excitement that had my brother terrified for his life. It was pretty funny and worth being tired the rest of the day just to get up before him and see his horror-struck expression.

This was very much a part of my idea. The ballroom team needed new members and I was going to get Alfred to be my partner so we could join. Even if it was only until after the concert, it presented hundreds of opportunities to pursue him – particularly those cheesy, "we need more one-on-one practice time to make sure we have our part right" excuses. I was going to help my friends and make Alfred fall for my awesome self in two weeks.

Yes, I did think of all this at five in the morning when I was pulling myself out of bed to go sit at the table and wait for Ludwig to come downstairs.

* * *

><p>My plan was simple. I arrived a little later than Alfred and Matthew since they came with their mom. I knew that they'd hurry to the auditorium to hang out with anyone who was already there so I scurried to Mr. Kirkland's room. He was sitting there grading papers so I knocked lightly before walking in. He looked up and narrowed his eyes at me. "Hey, I need a favor. And I know no one else could pull it off so I decided to ask you!"<p>

He sighed, setting his pen down. "I don't owe you any favors, Gilbert. But amuse me and tell me what it is you want."

I huffed slightly and crossed my arms. His attitude momentarily made me forget what I had been planning. When I remembered, however, I broke into a grin. "I need you to go home late and say that you need Matthew and Alfred to stay here too. For whatever reason you want but I need it."

Mr. Kirkland frowned. "What for?" He looked troubled and I could almost hear the accusations he wanted to throw at me. I briefly explained that the ballroom team had lost some members, that they were looking for new ones, and I planned to get Alfred to be my partner until after the concert when they wouldn't need us anymore. He made a humming sound, and then gave a small smile. "Alright. I have an idea so you've got your wish."

I grinned childishly and thanked him before leaving the room and going to the auditorium. If this afternoon went perfect – like I knew it would because I was awesome enough to pull it off – then everything else I had planned would go perfectly as well. "_Ich bin so überwältigend..._" I muttered to myself as I entered the room and took a seat next to Alfred who gave me an odd look. He had no idea what was coming but I did. And I would be successful. There was no room for failure when I was so close to getting what I wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Ah, yes... I am still living. Apologies for taking so long to get this chapter out. I was lacking inspiration and tried several times to get something going. This was the only draft I could stand and I'm sorry if it isn't very amazing. The next chapter should be easier for me to write and it should also flow better. I don't have a time-frame yet though..._

_As to why Tino and Berwald are their aunt and uncle? It was preplanned before I put out the Christmas one-shot connected to this where I added more relatives. They are now close friends to Francis and considered related because that's what Arthur and Francis deemed them. Hopefully they won't be too nonexistant in this story. _

_Alright, the translation for the German:_

_Ich bin so überwältigend... – _I am so awesome...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or characters thereof.

_Hope this wasn't too much of a disappointment. Please review if you feel so inclined. They make me happy, though, in case you were wondering. :) _


	9. Chapter 9

**Alfred (April 25, Tuesday)**

Ivan had taken Matthew off to some remote part of the school and now I was sitting on the stairs, glaring at the ground. I was bored and there was no way I was going to look like a nerd and pull out my homework. So I sat there and brooded. "Hey!" The sudden shout startled me and, with limbs flailing slightly, I snapped my head up and looked for the source. The source was none other than Gilbert himself, sauntering up to me. I blinked, staring at him before I responded. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, hands on his pockets and a grin on his face. "What's the matter with you? You've got your own little storm cloud above your head."

"I have to stay late and I have nothing to do..." I explained with an obvious pout. "Why didn't you catch the bus?"

He shrugged. "Well, my awesome intuition stated that you might be stuck here awhile and so I kindly took this as permission to stop by and entertain you." I narrowed my eyes at him, ninety percent sure that he was lying somewhere in that statement. "Come here," he commanded, holding out his left hand.

I slowly stood and took his hand with my right. "And how do you plan to entertain me?" I inquired curiously as he led me out to the open space of the evacuated and cleared cafeteria.

"Here, get in dance position with me," he instructed and wrapped his other arm around my waist. Startled as he extended our clasped hands, I gave my head no time to think before I rested my free hand on his arm, just under his shoulder. My feet fell naturally in place as we took a step to the side to make sure we were both in position and it didn't feel awkward.

My face was on fire; I could _feel _it. What was he thinking? What was I doing? I wanted to tell him that this wasn't a good idea and I should go find Matthew but before I could, he asked me what my favorite dance was. "East Coast Swing," I answered immediately. He kicked my foot back and counted out a quick beat and then we were off. The thing about the swing was that it wasn't as fast as, say, Jitterbug but it wasn't slow like the Waltz. There were moments where it felt like it was between the two, rapidly twisting around each other to make a spin or making a kind of pause to grab hands so I could slide under him before being dragged back into a standing position. It was an upbeat and fun dance, in my opinion.

But believe me when I say that I have never danced the East Coast Swing like I did with Gilbert. I was grinning like a madman. This was how it was supposed to feel – excitement built up in your chest, your feet moving faster than your brain processes the movements, a quick song running through your head as you let yourself fall into the dance. This was what I had been waiting for. I had loved dance just because it was fun and I was good at it. But now, it wasn't just something I could be good at. Dancing with Gilbert was an entirely new experience. I felt like we were in our own world, spinning and swinging around our own swirls of music.

And when we reached the end, we were both breathless but had on the widest smiles ever. "Will you be my dance partner?" Gilbert suddenly asked and I kind of felt myself deflate a little. He stood me upright and we faced each other.

"I don't know if... I want to go back to dance," I admitted, looking at our feet. "Even if it's temporary... It's not what it used to be to me."

"What was it to you?" he inquired, not letting go of my hand. "I mean, with all the competition and winning and watching everyone else dance and have fun... Isn't that just amazing?"

I snapped my head up, narrowing my eyes at him. "No, that's not the point," I told him, pulling my hand back. Instantly, he looked surprised. "See, most people either get too into the competition of they don't take it seriously enough. Dancing isn't for an audience approval. It's to let go, forget yourself, and get lost in footwork beyond your appreciation. It's to be who you can never be on your own." I leaned toward him, our nose almost touching, and peered into his crimson eyes. "It's to reflect a life you've never had, bring daydreams to life. Dancing is an escape you can find nowhere else and if someone is going to judge you on that, they'd better have been through Hell and Heaven to know what you're dancing for."

Gilbert stared at me, eyes wide, before smiling and closing the space between us. Before I could stop him – or comprehend what he was doing – our lips were locked together. And I didn't pause to think of pulling away. After a moment, we pulled apart and looked at each other. "V_erdammt_. That's what everyone on the team needs to believe. Please dance with me?"

I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to. It meant that I would have to help them in the upcoming concert but what if they wanted me to stay? What if the dances weren't like this? But before I could fully form the pros and cons, I blurted, "Yes. I will."

* * *

><p><strong>Matthew (April 25, Tuesday)<strong>

I followed Ivan curiously, my small hand wrapped in his large one. He led me to the auditorium where all the lights but a few onstage were off. I was afraid of tripping – on what? Who knew? – so I gripped his hand tighter. Slowing down a little, we headed for the stage where he hoisted me up and then climbed up after. "Ivan..." I murmured, looking out at the black that was the rest of the auditorium. "What are we doing?"

He smiled widely at me and threw his arms out like he was going to hug me. "This is our stage right now. We're going to dance." At first, his words didn't quite sink in. I thought maybe he was joking but he continued, "Let's do the Lindy Hop?"

"The Lindy Hop?" I asked and he nodded. I had never mastered the Lindy Hop so it wasn't one of my favorite dances. However, because it was a challenge, I decided to give it a go anyway. "Okay... Let's dance." He stepped up to me and took my left hand in his right, rested his left hand on my hip. As easily as it was to breathe, I set my hand on his arm and listened to him count out a quick beat before we took off. In my mind, I was yanked back in time. Music played off of a record and fueled my energy to keep up the fast-paced dance. I felt like my feet were hardly touching the ground. The dance position was lost to our hands clasped together as we swung around the stage and fell into the music in our minds.

It wasn't until I lost the rhythm and misstepped, causing us both to tumble, did we stop dancing. At first, I was afraid that he'd be angry that I'd lost it but was instead pleased to hear him laughing. I carefully stood up and offered my hand. "I'm sorry. I've never been very good at that dance..."

"Next time," Ivan said, standing up, "just say so and we can pick a different one, da?" I grinned and nodded, not really noticing that neither of us had let go of the other's hand. "Matvey... Be my dance partner?"

There was no hesitation this time. I could be on the ballroom team here and I could dance with the best partner I'd had yet. "Yes, please, yes," I practically begged him happily. His smile widened and he hugged me tightly while I laughed. The one place I belonged was on stage, dancing my heart out. It was where everyone noticed me, stared at me for the talent I displayed. I hadn't realized how badly I had missed dancing in these past few weeks but I had missed it sorely. Now I was being given another chance to be where I felt like I had a place. And with all the chaos in my life at that moment, there was no way I was turning it down.

"_Spasibo,_" he muttered into my hair and I nodded, not needing to understand his language to understand that he was thanking me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_I am proud to say that I finally have this out! :D I didn't want to take too long this time. And the best part is, it's just the perfect setting for Valentine's Day tomorrow. Too bad it's way short. :c I feel bad about that... Hopefully I'll be able to extend the next chapter. _

_Hope you all have a wonderful day tomorrow! Please review!_

**Translations:**

**German: **V_erdammt – damn_

**Russian: **_Matvey – Matthew_

_Spasibo – thank you._

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Hetalia or characters thereof. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Gilbert (April 28, Friday)**

Every afternoon, the entire ballroom had been getting together to practice the routines. There was one person who was supposed to remember the music – which was a pretty shitty collection of melodies, if you asked me. But today, they came in empty-handed. "I'm sorry, guys," she said as we all crowded around her angrily. "I had taken it out to practice at home last night and forgot to put it back in. I have another CD, though…" She pulled an '80s mix CD from her backpack, causing several of our teammates to groan loudly. I took the CD eagerly and put it in our stereo set. Pushing play, I skimmed through songs until I found one I was satisfied with.

"Come on, guys," I cried, catching their attention as I grabbed Alfred. "Let's at least try!" He stared at me a moment before smiling. "Haven't you ever danced to, like, Michael Jackson before?"

He snorted. "Of course I have. But this isn't Jackson. This is…" He paused, searching for a word or a name. "A little harder to dance to."

I waved it off, grinning like a madman. "No, think of 'Grease' or 'Footloose'. We can lindy-hop to this." I wiggled my eyebrows at Alfred who shook his head.

"There's no lindy-hopping to 'Kids of America' but I can work with this anyway," he declared and we got into position as I restarted the song. There was never enough room in the dance room for us, in my opinion. We slid across the floor, spun, kicked. I wasn't sure we were actually moving in an actual dance but I didn't particularly care. I was having fun. That's what I enjoyed about it. Ever since Alfred had first danced with me and he'd snapped about what dancing was actually about, I'd never taken it easy. It really was an escape. There was no thoughts about what I'd be going home to, no reminders of how grumpy teachers were today, nothing even about the pissy girl who always criticized everyone during our ballroom practices.

It was always a new world Alfred and I would be transported to when we danced together. I didn't think I'd ever love dancing again but I did now. When the song finally ended, we were laughing hysterically and several other couples came out to dance as well. I think it was the most fun I'd had in a while during our practices.

* * *

><p>"Make it or break it," Antonio muttered under his breath. It was our first real rehearsal in front of the ballroom coach. He would decide if he liked the routine we'd been practicing and if he didn't, he would cut a dance and replace it – which meant more work. It was also when he picked a theme for our costumes so we could start gathering those. I personally was hoping that he would be fine with everything because I wasn't up for a new dance.<p>

See, Alfred had taught everyone a brilliant and painful way to remember our steps. He told us to kick our partner's shin whenever they made a wrong step to remind them where their feet should go. The first few days were hell and my shins still ached but it was a fairly quick way to learn as I hadn't stepped on his toes since Tuesday.

Our coach called up Feliks, Taurys, Ludwig, Feliciano, Lovino and Antonio to do their group dance. I watched, kind of actually nervous for them. I know they didn't want extra work to do either. We all watched them spin around the stage, captivating us all with their routine. Group by group, team by team, he brought us all to the stage where we danced our best and he nodded or shook his head and scribbled things down into his notebook. At the end, he stood up, smiling. "I love every piece of this. Keep working on your footwork and I'll get back to you Monday at lunch with costume ideas," he announced with his loud voice. "Now go home and have a good weekend."

Immediately, we all walked to the doors that opened to the main hall. Alfred, Matthew, Ivan and I all grouped together under the assumption we'd be getting a ride home from Alfred. He hadn't objected yet so I thought we were good. "You know," he mentioned as we entered the parking lot. "I think we should have a get together tomorrow. We'll have a pre-celebration."

"What for?" Matthew asked, looking at his brother in confusion.

Alfred laughed loudly. "For passing the coach's test today, of course!" he exclaimed and unlocked his car. "I mean, Antonio looked like he was going to have a full blown panic attack when coach walked in. He needs a pick-me-up."

"Sounds awesome," I declared, grinning. "When and where?"

"I'll have to talk to my parents first, and then I'll let everyone know." We piled into the car and Alfred took off towards home.

* * *

><p><strong>Alfred (April 28, Friday)<strong>

It was late evening, well after dinner, when I stepped out into the backyard. Looking around, I remembered so little. The yard was huge and green with a swing set off to the side. Flowers lined the fence; herbs and vegetables grew in the little corner to my right. Closing the door behind me, I went over to the flowers to look at them all. I was greeted with an overwhelming floral scent and a soft hum of bees that had yet to go to sleep. Smiling, I went to the swing set and planted myself on one of the swings.

I was almost too big for the swing so my feet had no problem hitting the ground as I lazily pushed myself back and forth. The sky was darkening and the first few stars were shining through the haze of the night air. It was beautiful and relaxing out here. I thought about what it had been like since Matthew and I had gotten here. I'd felt like I hadn't gotten a break in anything. I always had to be on the move: doing something, meeting someone, feeling something, saying something. It was exhausting and a relaxing night in the warm spring to summer air was just what I needed. I could hear Francis and Arthur chatting loudly in the kitchen as they cleaned up from dinner and Matthew's radio playing while he practiced his steps.

I kicked off my shoes and let the cool grass tickle the bottom of my feet as I swayed on the swing. I thought about dance and Gilbert. It was weird how I'd so willingly said I would be his dance partner when moments before he'd asked, I'd told him I didn't want anything to do with the ballroom team. There was reason, of course, to why I hadn't wanted to. It had a lot to do with people and how they judge. In my last school, I was best but I wasn't me. I signed up for ballroom because it sounded fun. Initially, I'd gotten caught up in it and was able to whisk myself away into an imaginary world for myself. I hated home that much. Then it kept going and I had to stay with one certain girl because we were the best. She demanded my attention constantly whenever she saw me, trying to make it look like there was more than just the dancing happening. Dancing became dull and meaningless. There was no world for me to escape to.

I guess I needed my escape more than anticipated. Dancing with Gilbert spun me into a magical world where nothing bad happened and if something bad happened, it was easily fixed. I didn't have to care about anything. I absolutely loved it. I smiled to myself, closing my eyes. Being "home" was harder than I'd expected. I suppose I'd hoped that it had been a dead end and we could just go back to the way things were. All I had really been looking for was answers. Now I was living with what I felt were close strangers. Seeing Francis and Arthur made me feel like I knew them but also that I didn't at all. They would tell stories from our childhood before we'd left and some of them really did strike me as true – I could see them if I closed my eyes. And some I didn't know what to think. I didn't like feeling the way I did. I wished I could have one feeling and be able to go with it; or maybe two that were similar instead of vastly opposite.

I slid off the swing and sat in the worn down grass, playing with a few strands that stood taller than the rest of their army. I was happy that I finally had my answers but I wasn't sure I could live with them. It was such a hard thing to grasp, to try and picture as real. Twelve years of living a lie and I was just now finding out. That was really hard on my brain. Memories mixed and swirled in my head until I wasn't sure the difference between images my head was using to explain everything and my actual memories.

Sighing, I looked around and listened to the quiet of the night. I was grateful for a place like this, however. The last house didn't have much of a backyard and – even if it had – I doubted that Matthew and I would have been able to enjoy it much. This house had the perfect backyard for me. I could imagine that, as kids, Matthew and I would have loved to come out here every day. There was probably an old blow-up swimming pool in the garage somewhere that could have been out on the lawn when it was really hot. Matthew and I would have probably run around playing make-believe. I kind of laughed at the thought. Growing up under the Anderson's roof hadn't been much fun. We weren't allowed to do much that could potentially harm us – including watching too much TV. I wished we could have grown up here instead.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I think this is possibly the hardest chapter I've put out yet, simply because I was on a huge writer's block. Anyhow, it's here. And, yes, I was listening to '80s music while I wrote the first half. XD

Also, I delayed helping my friend, Feliciano Holmes, with our collab story. So if you don't hear from me in the next several months, hope that I'm actually doing something to help. -.- Eventually, may actually have the collab story to post.

Hope you liked it and it wasn't too horrible. Sorry for the huge delay. Please read and review. Love, darlings!


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: **I figured I should probably mention really fast who the fuck some of these characters are. A short list of the ones in this chapter:

_Australia: Wynn_

_New Zealand: Demarco_

_New Guinea: Jett_

_Tasmania: Lambson_

_Wy: Amelia_

And there will be more later, I'm sure. I'll be incorporating Arthur's brothers soon as well and a few others. So, here's this to alleviate any confusion when you see the name "Jett" and go "Australia?" I really didn't like that name for that country but it was an appropriate name elsewhere. Anyway, I'm done rambling. Also, ha ha. Yeah, I am alive. Year-long writer's block and I am so sorry. Hope you enjoy! Please review!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia or characters thereof.

~xXx~

**Alfred (Friday, April 28) **

"I'm sorry, boys, but no," Arthur said, looking upset that he had to give that answer as I deflated. "We've got guests coming in tomorrow night and they're staying for the week."

I wrinkled my nose in confusion and, as per the norm, Matthew spoke my thoughts, "Who's going to stay here for a week?" Or, in an alternate translation, _who the fuck is that important that they get to?_

For a moment, Arthur floundered. Then he settled on, "You'll see tomorrow," before he vanished into the kitchen to start on dinner.

Matthew looked at me and said, "You get to tell them. I have history homework." I glared at his back as he scrambled into the family room. With a resigned sigh, I headed up to my room. Once the door was shut, I flopped onto my bed and pulled out my phone. I twirled it in my hands for a minute before I typed and sent a mass message to Gilbert, Ivan, Ludwig, Feliciano, Lovino, and Antonio. "_Sorry, guys. Party's a no-go. We're having people over for a week."_

Antonio was the first to reply with, "_That's OK, _amigo. _I was getting the feeling we were celebrating too early, anyway. Have a good night!"_

Feliciano and Ludwig had similar feelings while Ivan sent, "_That's too bad. It was a good thought."_

I smiled a little and answered, "_Yeah, I hoped to raise our spirits. Maybe after our performance." _He didn't reply and neither did Lovino. However, several minutes later, Gilbert messaged me with, "_Who's coming over for a week? Family?"_

The thought was a bit foreign and I felt a little stupid for not considering it earlier. "_Probably," _I replied. "_Maybe grandparents or somebody. Ha ha."_

His response of, "_Probably Wynn… Good luck!" _with a too-happy smiley icon did not comfort me. Nor did his refusal of a reply after that. "Who the hell is Wynn?" I muttered in frustration.

~xXx~

It was around noon the next day when Francis left to the airport, leaving Matthew and I to watch as Arthur fussed over the state of the house and the two guest rooms. Finally, as he finished making the second twin bed, I asked, "Who's Wynn? Is he the one that's coming to stay?" Arthur looked at me in surprise. "Gilbert offered up the name."

Instantly, he seemed annoyed and yet also defeated as he sat on the end of the bed with it's bright yellow comforter. He bit his lip as he debated in his head and the answered, "Yes, Wynn. I suppose I shouldn't just surprise you without a story. Wynn is your older half-brother, from a previous relationship I was in. He's a really nice guy; got a wife and three kids… This is just a bi-annual visit from them. I haven't...haven't told him that you two are back yet…"

I balked at him, suddenly feeling extremely angry for reasons I couldn't quite identify. Matthew let out a soft sigh and I glanced at him. "That's going to be a bit of a shock for him, I think…" he muttered quietly and I felt my anger fade because he was right. "Is his family coming too, then?" Arthur nodded. "How much older is he than us?"

Arthur didn't look like he really wanted to divulge this information and the words tumbled from his lips with a bitter tone to them. "Seventeen. I was twenty-two when I had him."

I quickly did the math and raised my eyebrows in surprise but what came out of my mouth was, "Was he here a lot after we left?"

"Alfred, that's his story…" he said softly, expression fading into one of exhaustion. "I can't tell you why he changed the frequency of his visits without speculation. You'll have to ask him some questions."

"Why didn't you tell us we had an older brother to begin with?" Matthew inquired timidly.

Arthur pursed his lips and leaned back. "It hadn't come up in the questions and conversations and I didn't quite know how to bring it up. Throwing out, 'Yes, you have a sibling' into the air doesn't sound like it would go over well. Then I happened to glance at the calendar… I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It's not really fair to you two…" I glanced at the bedroom door, feeling my insides squirming. Arthur stood up suddenly and said, "I should probably start snacks or something. They had a long flight and they're always hungry when they get here…"

"I'll help," Matthew offered and they wandered downstairs. I stood there for a moment and then went to the other bed, climbing over it to look out the window that overlooked the driveway. The thoughts that had first started surfacing when the DNA tests had come in were threatening to tidal wave me again. I was feeling overwhelmed and angry. Matthew and I hadn't just been a fluke - he'd had another kid before us. I rested my hand on my abdomen and imagined the possibilities and the fears. I slipped off the bed and headed toward my room to take a nap before the guests arrived.

XX

I knew the moment Wynn and his family arrived because of all the noise. There was a laughing kid, an older one yelling at him to be quiet, a baby crying, a man telling his kids to calm down, and a deep voice trying to be heard over all of the chaos. And then there was Arthur trying to greet all these people. I climbed out of bed and wandered to the staircase, listening to all the voices a moment before I headed down and stood by my brother who was in the dining room doorway. The family was actually a really interesting bunch. There was a really tall, bulky brunette who was grinning from ear to ear, even as the little boy ran circles around his legs as he tried to walk, and a smaller blond man who was carrying a little baby in his arms, trying to soothe her even as he got after the energetic kid. The kid had light brown hair with blond streaking it here and there and brilliantly green eyes. He looked around three years old and as if he constantly drove his parents crazy. Then there was the older kid. He looked to be in his early teens, younger than Matthew and I, with a quiet expression on his face. He had blue-green eyes and a relaxed posture.

"Wynn, Demarco! How was your flight?"

"Chaotic, as is everythin'."

"Come on, ya little ankle bitah, calm yer shit down."

"Wynn, don't swear at 'im."

"I didn't swear _at _'im. I swore in general."

"You really shouldn't swear around your kids…"

"Jett, ya're gonna trip Dad! Stop it!"

And then the little boy ran up to me and paused, wide-eyed curiosity on his face. "Who're you?" he asked, a definite Aussie accent in his voice, like a more childish version of his dad - except he looked a lot more like his mom.

"Uh, my name's Al," I replied after a moment. "Who're you?"

He puffed himself up like he was about to say something important. "Jett Kirkland!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Like a jet plane?" His face practically split in two with the grin that crossed it as he absolutely lit up. "I bet your dad flies you all over the house, yeah?" And he was off, chattering a mile a minute at me. I sat down on the floor, nodding at his words. My ex-dance partner had once brought her brother to a rehearsal and I'd tried being nice to him but he was a six-year-old snob. This kid was what I imagined I'd been like at his age and I _adored _him.

Suddenly, the blond man noticed Jett's disappearance and turned toward his voice, catching sight of Matthew and I instantly. "I didn't know you had other guests, Arthur," he said above the din and the brunette glanced over his shoulder at us.

"They're, er, not guests," Arthur started, heat rising in his face slightly. "Wynn, Demarco, this is Alfred and Matthew…" I thought for sure the blond would drop his baby in surprise. "Boys, this is Wynn-" he gestured at the brunette and then the blond "-and Demarco." He awkwardly dropped his hands to his sides.

I resisted the urge to shout "surprise!" as I stood up. Wynn looked vaguely close to being sick so I figured that I would need to tone down any obnoxious comments I had for him. "We got a bit more of a warning than you, bro," I said, grinning uncomfortably. Jett had run off and was digging through a backpack I hoped was his.

"You're dead," Wynn blurted and his face immediately turned tomato-red as he seemed to regret his words, eyes flicking briefly toward Arthur. "I-I mean, that's just…"

"Eh, it's okay," Matthew cut in gently. "_Nobody _believed it at first."

Wynn stared hard at us, turning so he didn't cramp his neck. Even the baby and Jett had quieted down. "But…it's been _twelve years_…" he finally muttered in awe. "It shouldn't even be possible…"

"I'm sorry, but this is a bit much, even for me…" Matthew interrupted, resting his head in his hand. "Can we sit?"

~xXx~

Demarco came back into the living room after putting Jett and their daughter, Amelia, to bed for the night and sat down beside Wynn on the loveseat with a tired sigh. I kind of felt bad for him; he looked exhausted and anxious at once. Their oldest son, Lambson, was sitting on the floor by Wynn's feet. Our brother stared at us as he leaned back, eyeing us like he thought we'd disappear again. It was making me uncomfortable. To break the silence, I asked, "So… What's your story then?"

He smiled, almost wistfully, and my stomach made a violent lurch. "Well… I'm seventeen years older than ya, Alfred…" He made a twist of his mouth, like he wasn't used to letting the name slip anymore. "I was eighteen when I went on a school trip to Australia where I met my little Kiwi here." He beamed as he glanced at Demarco who blushed furiously and gave a squeak of a protest. "We married when I was twenty and we moved to Australia where Lambson was born and we visited back here once before ya two vanished. We spent maybe five months out here after…"

"Six, Wynnie," Demarco corrected softly, watching us. "We spent Lambson's third birthday here."

"Right," Wynn agreed and patted his son's head. "I'm glad he was too young to remember…"

I felt the need to look at Lambson and apologize, "Sorry, brah." I offered a weak smile.

He stared at me and grinned too brightly. "I was too young to remember," he repeated and I could tell it was a practiced lie. I definitely felt sick to my stomach now. How many lives had we inadvertently destroyed by our disappearance? And, worse, how many were we destroying now with our _re_appearance? "It's cool that you're back, though. Maybe we'll be able to get to know each otha now."

I smiled tightly as Matthew enthused, "That would be so great! None of our cousins ever liked us and most were older so they picked on us anyway…" He paused and corrected, "Fake cousins, that is…"

Wynn was interested now, leaning forward a bit. "What _is _your story?"

"I guess that… Well, the Andersons, they were the couple that took us, they faked an adoption and raised us as their own kids…" I explained, feeling a bit distant.

Demarco frowned deeply. "How strange…" he muttered, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Where were you living, then?"

"We grew up in Alabama," I replied, maybe a bit too cheerfully because both Demarco and Wynn looked startled. "Sorry…" I wanted to explain how I missed the trees and the humidity of summer and I missed the color of my bedroom and my angry cat. But most of all, I missed feeling sure and secure. Instead of saying any of this, I simply stood and excused myself to the bathroom.

~xXx~

**Lambson (Saturday, April 29)**

I wasn't focused on Alfred as he walked away; I watched his brother, Matthew, as his face grew red and contorted with embarrassment and anger. I was a bit concerned about the idea that he might try to murder Alfred so as he opened his mouth, I got to my feet and chirped, "I'll go see if he's okay." My dad started to protest so I persisted, "No, come on. Let me try." With a sigh, he waved me off and I sprinted to the restroom. Cautiously, I knocked on the door and softly said, "It's just me, Lambson." I heard the click of the lock and the door opened a bit. I squeezed in and closed the door behind me. Alfred sat on the toilet so I hopped onto the counter. "You OK?"

He shook his head. "I feel sick…" he mumbled into his hands.

"I can't imagine why," I replied, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Hey, I know what ya were thinking with that birthday thing." He looked up at me in surprise and I smiled wistfully at him. "I remember it." I tapped my right temple lightly. "Photographic memory. Mum and Dah don't know and I'd be very grateful if we could keep it that way."

His eyes widened impossibly. "Dude, I am so sorry. I can't even imagine…"

"Please, don't start," I interrupted and even put my hand up. "It's a bloody _birthday_; they happen every year." He still looked far from convinced so I sighed. "Alfred, yes, everyone was devastated when you two vanished. But it's _not _your fault. Do you know what it?" He shook his head, looking about ready to cry. "Coming _back_. Yah didn't _have _to. Yah coulda stayed there, blissfully unaware of this life here and all the people left behind… You made the _brave _choice - to find out and to _stay_. You don't realize what a wonderful impact you've had. I've only been here at few _hours_ and I can see it on Gramma and Grampa's faces. They're so happy. And you've changed _my _life. After you two were taken, Mum and Dah got really scared and protective. I think they might calm down now. Plus, I've got an _amazing _story to tell all my friends when I get home! 'My long lost cousins are back!' No one will believe me. It'll be funny." I grinned at him. "Then I can tell them what a snot you've become."

"Did you even _know _me before today?" he asked, seeming to be in better control of himself. I told him that I had not. "Then how do you know I've 'become' anything!?"

I laughed. "Actually, from all the stories I was told, you haven't 'become' any more or less obnoxious," I said finally and he snorted. "Yah can't blame yourself for a decision that was outta your control. Yah can _only _take credit for your own."

Alfred looked up at me, studying me carefully. After a minute or so, he softly inquired, "How are you _that _smart?"

I beamed. "I think I got a lot of Mum's genes. Plus, I'm a really good listener. I've learned over the years that listening is important if you want to accomplish much of anything. I've never made the same mistake twice."

"I'm kind of envious of that…" he muttered, turning his eyes to the floor. "Sounds useful."

"It's not," I replied, trying not to sound as upset as I felt. I'd thought a lot about it and every time I did, I always got angry. "People look at it as though I'm less human. Where others will forget and make the mistake again, I remember and avoid it. I've lost friends over it. Sometimes, I wish I _could _forget things. My head's always so full…"

Alfred was silent for several moments before he stood in front of me. "Thanks, brah. Really. I needed to remember that others have issues, too."

I shoved lightly at his shoulders. "Yeah, don't get creepy over it. Just bite the bullet and know that everyone here loves you - you haven't disappointed anyone yet, that I can tell."

"Aw, cuz," Alfred cooed with the most obnoxious grin I'd ever seen on anyone. "Getting all sweet and lovely so suddenly? I've only known you for a few hours!"

"I will not hesitate to kick you," I replied brightly, swinging my feet slightly to show my point. He backed up, laughing. "I think my dad had more questions for you so we should probably get back…"

Alfred sighed, "I'm sick of questions…" It was about then that I realized something: Alfred was a rather transparent person. He was all show but, below that, he was a cowering child. I _still _can't forget the look of absolute defeat on his face, no matter how hard I try to file it away. Even the strongest persona could be overwhelmed at some point. And that made me mildly terrified of _myself._


End file.
